


The Magician and the Fool

by Mistress_of_Squirrels



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Cyberpunk secret ending spoilers, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Fix-It, Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:53:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28520442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_of_Squirrels/pseuds/Mistress_of_Squirrels
Summary: Johnny can count on one hand the people that are close to him and still have fingers to spare. V tops that short list easily. Hell, he’d even told her as much, but there was only one way this was ever gonna end.Him or V.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Female V
Comments: 24
Kudos: 178





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention - and sincere apologies to anyone that might've read on not knowing - that this contains heavy spoilers for the end of the game, the 'secret' ending in particular. Once again, please accept my apology. I'll be sure to tag for spoilers.

She’s stalling. 

Johnny’s sure of it, but V’s always got an excuse. One more job, one more asshole that needs a favor, one more Timmy to pull out of the fuckin’ well. The holo so much as chirps, and she’s back on that bike of hers, ready to play the hero of Night City. Nevermind that her brain could start dripping out of her goddamned skull at any second. 

The chip glitches almost daily now, leaving V barely conscious and choking on her own blood. Johnny thinks each attack might be her last, but the panic he used to feel skittering across whatever nebulous border separates them is gone, a grim sort of acceptance in its wake. 

It’s not that V’s given up, exactly. ‘Least, Johnny doesn’t think so. The slightest hint of that, and he’ll march her stubborn ass to ‘Saka Tower himself. Burn down as many of the fuckers as he can before the Relic melts what’s left of her brain. ‘Course he won’t last long after, but fuck it. He gave his word. Meant it, too, for once in his life, so V needs to get off her ass. 

A thought, and he’s crossed from his side of their brain to hers. Probably not a good sign that it’s gotten so easy. V never could shut him out completely, even with the help of Misty’s magic pills, but getting up close and personal used to take some effort. He leans against the glass of V’s apartment window and frowns as he watches her play with Nibbles. 

V doesn’t look up, but the corner of her mouth quirks as she runs a hand along the cat’s back. If Johnny focuses, he can feel Nibbles arch beneath his own fingers in a silent demand for more attention, the cat’s wrinkled skin warm and oily. 

“Like pettin’ a fuckin’ ham,” Johnny grumbles, shaking the feeling from his hand and lighting a cig. 

For all the good it’ll do him. He takes a deep drag anyway, and exhales a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. It doesn’t help, but it’s something to do. 

“Could prolly use a bath,” V agrees, hiding a grin beneath the fall of her hair. She glances up at Johnny as he takes another hit from his cigarette and tilts her head toward her desk, one dark brow raised in an unspoken question. There’s a fresh pack there, he knows, and not that long ago, he’d have taken full advantage of the offer. Now, he just shakes his head. He’s practically cancer to her as it is. No reason to go adding to her problems by leaving her with the real thing. 

With a shrug, she returns her attention to the cat.

“V…”

She lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes at him, but a warm surge of what Johnny can only call affection says her annoyance is just an act. “What’s bitin’ at your ass now?”

“Same as yesterday and the day before that. You’re runnin’ out of time, V. Don’t like the idea of talkin’ with that Porcelain Cunt any more than you, but I don’t see another option here. We don’t find Mikoshi, we’re fucked. _You’re_ fucked.”

V looks away, face unreadable, but a wave of grief crashes over Johnny so strong his throat feels choked with it. It recedes moments later, and V nods, still not looking at him. “Guess there’s no way around it.” She blows out another short breath, and it’s like any fight she had left goes with it. “Alright, I’ll call. Set up the meet.”

His thoughts flash back to Kerry’s mansion; the cocky certainty that rang in his ears as he used V’s voice to assure his former bandmate that she’d go along with whatever it took to get Samurai back together for one last gig, and Johnny has the nagging suspicion he knows exactly why V’s dragging her feet with this all the sudden.

_“Trust me, Ker, V fuckin’ loves me.”_

More than was good for her, maybe. Definitely more than a bastard like him deserves.

Guilt settles in his stomach, so heavy he’d puke if he could. 

It’s not like he doesn’t get it. He can count on one hand the people that are close to him and still have fingers to spare. V tops that short list easily. Hell, he’d even told her as much, but there was only one way this was ever gonna end. Him or V. Not even a choice anymore, so he’ll be the asshole if he has to be.

He’s said it before, V doesn’t have time for sentiment. ‘Specially not for the likes of Johnny Silverhand.

Pushing off from the window, Johnny moves to stand in front of her, crossing his arms over his chest as he fixes her with a pointed stare.

“Now, V. Call the bitch now, or I’ll fuckin’ do it for you.”

“Jesus, Johnny! Already said I would, didn’t I?”

She glares up at him then carefully scoops up Nibbles. Johnny follows as she deposits the cat in its basket and heads for the bathroom. Just as she crosses in front of the mirror, she staggers, catching herself against the counter with one hand while the other comes up to grip her head, fingers digging into her scalp. A low groan escapes from behind her clenched teeth, but by the time Johnny can feel the first muted throb flare just behind his eyes, V’s already straightening. Her eyes meet her reflection, and Johnny’s heart gives a phantom lurch. 

Ain’t her staring back. It’s _him_.

Her mouth falls open in a silent gasp, her arms brace against the bathroom counter in shock. Can’t seem to take her eyes off the mirror, and when V finally speaks, her voice is shaking with a mix of fear and disbelief. 

“You fuckin’ with me right now?”

“Wouldn’t do that to you, V.”

Sure as fuck not now. He wants to believe he was never _that_ much of a dick, but he knows better. 

“Right.” V nods and takes a deep breath. Lets it out slow and stands to her full height - all five feet and some change. 

She’s always been on the small side - and wasn’t that an adjustment whenever he got behind the wheel. But she’s never actually looked it until now. 

“V…”

“I know.”

She grabs her phone and makes the call. Something like relief sweeps through Johnny, but it’s just a shadow. They’re dancing on a wire now; one wrong move and flatlining in some dank alley might be V’s best option. It’s all in the hands of Arasaka’s porcelain princess, and though the thought leaves Johnny sick to his very guts, he can’t deny V’s logic. Hanako is their only lead. Everything else turned out to be a bust, or close enough. The fact is, the clock’s tickin’ down and V’s going in with a shit hand.

Doesn’t stop Johnny from warning her in every way he can as they ride the elevator to Embers. 

Problem is, V’s wound up just as tight as he is. Maybe more. No way of telling where his nerves start and hers bleed through. Not anymore. 

“Y’know, I really don’t get it,” V finally snaps. Her arms are crossed tight in front of her, almost like she’s trying to shield herself from what’s coming. “You’re riding my ass to get us here, and now you wanna bail. Do us both a favor and just make up your fuckin’ mind already, yeah?”

“Just...be careful,” Johnny relents. Doesn’t really make sense to him, either, but anything even remotely related to Arasaka’s gotta be bad news. No matter how shiny the paper it’s wrapped in, a turd is still a turd. 

V’s brow lifts, and the hint of a smirk creeps in to tug up the corner of her lips. “Always am.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause jammin’ unknown tech into your head is the epitome of ‘careful’. Maybe do the opposite this time around.”

Her smirk never fades, but before V can run her mouth again, the elevator doors ding open.

This is it. The belly of the beast, but thankfully, V seems every bit aware of the danger as he is. She gives as good as she gets to the bitch, and Johnny’s never been more proud. Until V’s words become strained and a thin stream of crimson trickles from her nose to trace the curve of her lip. 

Hanako seizes the moment, greedy, grasping cunt that she is, and tries to plead her deal. V gasps some noncommittal response and staggers back towards the elevator, the porcelain bitch hot on her heels with all sorts of dire warnings. 

“Got what you wanted,” Johnny interrupts. Louder than he needs to be, but fuck. His is the only voice V should be hearing right now. He’s the only one won’t steer her wrong. “We got Mikoshi. Now delta the fuck out already.”

V makes it to the elevator again, but she’s fading fast, and there’s only so much time to really drive his point home. He lifts his hand and V’s follows suit to punch the button that brings the elevator car to a stop.

He knows she hates it. Feels the stab of betrayal like it’s prickin’ at his own chest, but she needs to _see_. Maybe take in a big fuckin’ dose of reality while she’s at it. Too much more of this, and it’s gonna be him in the driver’s seat full time. 

‘Course luck would have it he can’t actually tell her any of that ‘cause V goes down. She doesn’t come out of it, and for the first time since he found himself in Saburo’s skeletal clutches, Johnny knows true fear. 

“Just like that? Checkin’ out again?”

V doesn’t so much as move, but Johnny’s not ready to count her out just yet. Any other time, and his tone alone would’ve had her spitting like that cat of hers. Pissed off and hissing useless threats, but ready to fight, no matter how bad the odds. He needs that side of her now, and he has to believe it’s still in there somewhere, despite how pale and still she looks. 

The shallow rise and fall of her chest shows she’s still breathing, and Johnny aims to keep it that way. He doesn’t bother with the pills this time; there’s no need. Taking control of her body is like slipping into his favorite jacket. Comfortable. Practiced. He tries not to think of the implications and stands on shaking legs. Nerves again, and this time they’re definitely his. Have to be; there’s not been so much as a peep from V. 

The realization spurs him into movement, and the moment the elevator opens on the ground floor, Johnny sprints for all he’s worth to V’s ripperdoc.

Vik looks up as they burst through the gate, a startled exclamation Johnny doesn’t have time to process falling from his lips. Some gonk’s already there, but that’s one problem he’s more than capable of solving on his own. 

To his credit, Vik doesn’t fuck around. Soon as Johnny’s got V in the chair, the doc gets to work, firing off questions as he jacks V’s link into his terminal and starts tapping at the screen. 

Johnny’s certain the doc knows it’s not V behind the wheel. Vik eyes them in a way he never did when V was the sole occupant of her skin. Makes him feel like an insect under a scope, but Johnny can’t even blame the guy. He knows better than any scan can show; he’s a fuckin’ parasite, burrowing in and hollowing V from the inside out. 

He stays until he feels the first faint tendrils of her consciousness tickle at his mind, and then he’s out, more relieved than he’s ever been. She’s still there. Beat to hell and back, but still kicking.

For now. 

Johnny’s never really been one to hope, but by some miracle, they’ve got another chance. One V can’t afford to waste. He tries to tell her, only to find their little talks are no longer private as every word he says echoes from V’s mouth. Misty, one of the few truly good souls left in Night City, seems to understand. She leads them to the roof, and after a heart-to-heart he’s sure only she could give, leaves them be. 

For a second, Johnny wishes she’d stayed. He _knows_ V, same way she knows him. No one else is ever gonna come close to that kind of understanding for either of them, and yet, in what might be their last real conversation, he falters. 

After a few moments, he settles for the unvarnished truth. 

“Fuckin’ scared me, know that?”

V’s answering grin is tired, little more than a quick flash of her teeth, but she’s lost none of her snark as she flutters her eyelashes up at him and coos, “Johnny Silverhand, actually scared for some Heywood dirtgirl? Awww, don’t I feel special.”

He smirks back, dips his head as that familiar wave of warmth he doesn’t deserve washes over him. They might both be shit at conventional communication, but luckily, their circumstances are anything but conventional. “You should, you bitch. And just look at you now. Managed to walk past those few extra blocks after all. You and me both. Come a long way to get here, haven’t we?”

“Yeah,” V agrees softly. “Guess we have.”

“Meant what I told you. Every fuckin’ word,” Johnny says with a nod at the dogtags hanging around her neck. “Tryna save you, V. You gonna let me do that?”

“Johnny…” V blinks and quickly looks away, gaze focused on her hands where they lay clasped loosely in her lap. She swallows thickly and seconds later, Johnny feels his throat tighten and his eyes burn. 

Pretending not to notice, he presses on. “Look, you got options --”

“Not Hanako,” V interrupts, near spitting the name. “Not about to hand you to Arasaka all over again.”

Her vehemence manages to take Johnny aback, and for a moment he can only stare. He clears his throat, stalling for time while he finds his tongue and gives her a slow nod. “‘Preciate it, V, but it’s you you should be worried about. Bitch’ll fuck you over first chance she gets.”

“I know.”

“Good. So that leaves Panam. Her and her tarmac rats’d do anything for you, but then you gotta live with the consequences. Or, you can let me call Rogue and keep my promise to you.”

“Rogue.” V snorts and curls in on herself, resting her elbows on her knees. “You sure about that, Johnny? Then it’s you livin’ with the consequences.”

He doesn’t answer right away. If this all works out like it should, he won’t be around for any fallout. Seems he hadn’t buried the old Silverhand as deep as he thought, because a part of him, selfish as it is, is relieved by the idea. It’s more than that, though. It’s about settling debts and sealing old wounds. He owes Rogue that much at least.

“All this shit started with us,” Johnny says at last. “Rogue would wanna see it through, same as me.”

“I don’t want anyone else dyin’, Johnny. Not ‘cause of me. Not worth it.”

She’s wrong, of course. Got a whole fuckin’ list of people that would tell her, too, but they’re not here. It’s just the two of them, and fucked up as it makes him, it feels _right_. More than, really. Like the answer was there in front of ‘em all along. 

“Lucky for you, you got this one choom who’s already dead.”

It doesn’t take V long to catch on. He never did give her enough credit for what she’s got going on upstairs. 

“One last run?”

Johnny nods. “You, me, and Arasaka Tower. Kinda sounds like a Eurodyne lyric, I know, but trust me - we’ll go fuckin’ nova.”

“Nova,” V chuckles weakly. “Supernova, more like, but fuck it. I’m in.”

“You sure? Still got time to change your mind, you know.”

V opens her hand to reveal the pills she got from Vik. With a flick of her wrist, she tosses them, watching as the pills arch over the short wall of the roof. “I’m sure. Been through too much for one of us to get sidelined now.” 

Her teeth worry at her bottom lip and she goes quiet. Johnny gives her what space he can to mull it over, and a few minutes later, she sighs. “We’re gonna need a plan. Damn good one, too.”

“A plan? Might be how you and Rogue operate, but me? I say you strap on your hottest iron, stride through the front door, and cut your own path to the lower levels. If what the cunt claimed is true, all you gotta do is find the elevator.”

“Remember anything of the layout?”

“Some,” Johnny shrugs. “Don’t forget, they rebuilt the tower. Doubt it’s gonna be exactly the same.” 

“Just means they’re due for another remodel. New coat of paint, maybe. Somethin’ in red.”

Sounds like something he’d say, down to the nasty little sneer that laces her tone. Once, he might’ve been proud to hear it. Now, he just hopes Alt is as good as her word. The sooner he gets wiped, the sooner V can move on without him and his baggage. 

“Just be careful, V. It’s their house.They _will_ have a plan. Probably polished and rehearsed.”

“Got one, too,” V retorts. “If I’m gonna die, they’re gonna work for it. Goin’ down on fire with a gun in my hand, even if I gotta light the torch myself.” 

“V…”

Her face softens when she looks up at him, her mouth curving in a sad smile. “I mean it, Johnny. Whatever happens, I’m not lettin’ ‘em take the Relic.”

“What’s gonna happen is you’re gonna cut a bloody swath to Mikoshi. After that, it’s up to Alt.”

V stands, toying with the chain around her neck a moment and then tucks the tags under her shirt. “Sure hope your ex knows what she’s doin’.” 

“Me, too, V. Me, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains contains talk and decriptions of suicide. Seriously, it's in the first few words. Please use discretion, and read at your own risk.

_Literal suicide._

That’s what V’d told Jackie before the heist. Going against ‘Saka was bad enough, but kleppin’ some prototype from the Black Prince himself? ‘Bout as gonk as it got.

Hadn’t stopped ‘em, though. No one ever became a legend in Night City without risk, and the allure of adding their names to Night City's hall of fame was too sweet to resist. They’d been so close V could practically taste it. ‘Til Jackie bled out in the back of a cab and victory and fame turned to ash on her tongue. 

V never could rinse that taste from mouth. It’s only now, another gun pressed cold against her temple, that the flavor changes. Still bitter, but palatable. It’s her finger on the trigger this time around, her that’ll decide when and how it gets pulled. For the first time, V recognizes the gift she’s been given.

Johnny was right. The city always wins, but not everyone gets a choice in how they go out. 

V knows she’ll never be a legend, and that’s fine. Doesn’t mean she’s ready to fold just yet. They’ve got biz to settle, her and Johnny both. And if they’re goin’ down when it’s all said and done, it’s gonna be with fuckin’ fireworks. 

Johnny’s eyes are hidden behind his aviators, but V catches his grin before he flickers out of sight, leaving her awash in a warm ripple of pride. He’s heard everything, despite her not uttering a sound. She used to find the idea of her thoughts on broadcast terrifying, but by now, the feeling is second nature. 

It’s after that truly scares her, but who’s she kidding? They probably won’t last two steps past the front door. 

Turns out she’s wrong. There’s been plenty of fireworks, sure, and they’ve still got a ways to go, but somehow, ‘after’ is starting to look like a real possibility.

After, when the voice she knows as well as her own is finally silenced and she’s swallowed whole in the void left behind.

Leaning heavily against the wall of the elevator, V closes her eyes against their sudden sting and tries to catch her breath. She’s getting too far ahead of herself. Still a million and one ways this could all go tits up, and she’s got a promise to keep. Smasher. Though how the fuck she’s gonna manage to pull that one off is anyone’s guess. 

Plenty have gone up against ‘Saka’s pet borg and lost, Johnny included. What chance does some kleptopunk street kid have? Assuming they even make it that far. Security’s on red alert after Hanako disappeared during the parade. V doubts the goons upstairs are all they have to throw at her. 

“Gonna be an ambush, no doubt about that. Just focus, V. You’re better than them.”

Johnny doesn’t look at her, but she can feel the raw conviction behind every word. He believes what he’s saying - believes in _her._ She can’t help but compare him to the last person that had that kind of faith in her and just how it all turned out. If everything goes according to plan, this time around can’t end much better. 

The thought leaves V with bile burning the back of her throat, but there’s no time to think as the elevator touches down with a dampened jolt. Soon as the doors open, she’s back in the fray. 

Guns blazing isn’t her usual style. She’d like to think she’s got more finesse than that, and yanking some gonk along to her tune is a trip like no other. Stealth’s pointless here, though. Her cover was blown the moment she rolled out her own welcome mat, and while the Relic is glitching like it is, zapping her gray matter into sludge, she probably couldn’t hack her way out of wet paper. 

Seems like all those hours with Wilson at the range are finally paying off. V’s covered in blood by the time she makes it to Arasaka’s Netrunner Ops - more hers than not - but she’s breathing. Gasping, more like, but that’s just splitting hairs. All that matters is she’s alive, and she’s left a few dozen bullet-riddled ‘Saka corpses in her wake. 

“I’d call that a win,” Johnny smirks from where he’s suddenly perched on a desk. He nods down at the screen of a term. “Think you can use it?”

“Guess we’re ‘bout to find out.”

“Could really use you right about now, Spider…”

He says it quiet, probably just an errant thought not meant for V, but she hears everything now, same as him. Can’t even really tell which of them first feels the twinge of melancholy that echoes off the legendary netrunner’s name. Hell, maybe it’s both. V didn’t know her like Johnny did, but Spider Murphy was an idol, on par with Bartmoss himself. How many nights had V wasted, dreaming of the day she could join their ranks?

“Still got time for that, V. Y’know, if burnin’ out your frontal lobe’s how you wanna get your jollies.”

“Top o’the list,” V snarks back, lips twitching into a grin as she brings up the term’s interface. “Right up there with blowin’ shit up.”

There’s no time to banter further, because she’s in, and all that’s left is to boot up the mainframe. Too easy, that. No security to speak of, not even a fuckin’ password. Any gonk with functioning fingers could come along and do the same. Ignoring the sinking in the pit of her stomach, V taps in the command anyway and scans the underground chamber for any sign of change. 

Nothing happens at first, then an alarm blasts overhead, the red lights that line the chamber pulsing with every new shrill. At the same time, there’s a low rumble beneath her feet, a metallic grating as the floor in the center of the room opens and the mainframe begins it’s slow ascent. 

A shout rings from down one of the many halls, and seconds later, V hears the synchronized thud of booted feet. Lots of them. 

_Too many_ , V thinks as she dives behind the cover of a console. They’re coming from the stairs and every corridor that connects to the chamber. Just a matter of time ‘til they’ve got her cornered... ‘til goin’ out on her own terms is is just a dying wish. She promised they wouldn’t get the chip, but it’s not like they need her alive to rip it out of head. 

She knows the chip can be damaged - it’s why they’re in this mess to begin with. One well-placed bullet, and ‘Saka’s not recovering shit - from either of them. 

It’s not how V wants to say goodbye, but whatever happens after that has gotta be better than another fifty years in Mikoshi. 

Cold fingers fall heavy on her shoulder, dig painfully into her flesh, and Johnny’s scowl fills her vision. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ quit on me now,” he snarls, every bit as furious as their first meeting. Unlike then, there’s something besides rage in his eyes, wild and glittering. If V had to guess, she’d say it was fear. 

“Johnny - “

“Shut up,” he snaps, nodding toward the wall where a door has slid open. Another opposite it follows suit, and the pound of armored boots grows deafening. “Just keep your fuckin’ head down. You got this, V.”

_Easy for you to say_ \- _all you gotta do is watch._

There’s no response from Johnny, but she can still feel him there, pacing like a cat in the recesses of her mind. Her last coherent thought is one of gratitude, then shots ring out again. Adrenaline spikes, and her vision narrows, like the entire world has been compressed to fit inside that room. 

There’s a rhythm to firefights. Not anything that can be seen or heard, but V can almost feel it, throbbing at the edges of her awareness in a phantom heartbeat. Aim, shoot, duck back into cover. Wait for the lull, and do it all again. 

She manages to get a bead on one of Arasaka’s finest just long enough to breach his defenses, and V’s grin is all teeth when he goes down in a heap of twitching limbs and sparking implants. Another’s eyes go wide in pure horror as he detonates the grenade in his hand, but there’s no time to savor his panic. The relic sends a spike of white-hot pain through her skull, glitching her optics with static and flashing errors. 

Too late she hears the steps behind her. A ricochet rips a stinging trail across her upper back, and with reflexes V shouldn’t have, she turns to meet her assailant. Without thinking, she sights down the barrel of Archangel, and the asshole's head explodes in a fine red mist. She spins, and another drops to his knees, blood streaming from the new hole in his chest. On it goes until the alarm is the only sound left, and she’s the only one standing.

“See? What’d I tell ya?” Johnny’s leaning against the mainframe, now fully surfaced, and every line of him radiates smug satisfaction. 

V can only sigh. Everything hurts and she can feel something warm and sticky drip down the line of her spine. “How much of that was you?”

Johnny shrugs, carefully avoiding her gaze behind his aviators. “Not sure even ‘Saka’s best and brightest could answer that now.”

“Prolly right,” V allows, fishing an airhypo from a pouch at her belt. She injects the contents and lets out a deep breath as she tosses the empty hypo aside. There’s an itch just below her shoulder blades as the flesh starts to knit, and V fights the urge to squirm against it. “Guess it doesn’t really matter anyway.”

There’s not really more to say, so V gets to work, slotting in Alt’s chip. Whatever else V might say about the runner-turned-AI, Alt doesn’t fuck around. A minute, tops, and she’s got control of Arasaka’s entire system. The way to Mikoshi is clear, but every step V takes feels heavier than the last. She know’s what’s coming, and aside from a desire to avoid the inevitable, that feeling is back, the one that says this is just too easy. 

Her fears come true when Alt suddenly announces that they’re on their own. Seems Arasaka’s got runners on reserve, and the AI’s not too keen on letting them have their way with her. Understandable as far as V’s concerned, but the path ahead isn’t as free as Alt promised. 

“Know she had to delta,” V grumbles, studying the thick, metal gate blocking their path. “But would it’ve killed her to open the fuckin’ door before she did?”

“Just open the damn thing, already. You heard her, right? Got a tail on us. No time to waste.”

“Fine,” V sighs, bending down to slip her fingers in the gap at the bottom. “You just sit there and look pretty, I guess.”

Johnny mutters something about boosting morale, but breaks off in a curse as a trickle of panic worms it’s way into V’s gut. 

“Smasher!”

The warning comes too late. V’s thrown to the ground, chin smacking into the floor so hard blood fills her mouth. She scrabbles forward on her hands and knees, but before she can regain her footing, she’s forced to dive flat again as Smasher barrels past. Seven fuckin’ feet of hulking chrome, and faster than she’d expected, even after seeing him in action through Johnny’s memories. 

Scuttling back on her elbows, V brings her gun up and pumps off as many rounds as she can. Most just ping off of him like so many pebbles, but she gets lucky with the last. Perfect headshot, if the borg’s got enough left to be called a head. It doesn’t do much more than stagger him, but while he’s swiping angrily at his face, V climbs to her feet. 

“Run, V! You find a way out, fuckin’ delta!”

The room they’re in is large and open, with stairs in the corners that lead to a sort of catwalk above on either side. V picks the closest she can find and darts to the next level, crouching behind a low wall. 

“Made you a promise,” V gasps, gun clutched close to her chest as she peeks out to scan the floor below. “Smasher dies.”

“Or he just kills you.”

Edging out from behind cover, V fires off another series of shots. “Not gonna happen.”

Johnny doesn’t argue. Probably realized it’s pointless by now. There’s what can only be the mental equivalent of a snort at that, but he stays quiet and lets her focus. 

Now that she’s a little more prepared for what to expect, it’s easier to stay out of Smasher’s range. He’s still quicker on his feet than anything held together by nuts and bolts has a right to be, but as long as she keeps some kind of barrier between them, he’s not difficult to evade. She’s smaller, if nothing else, more adept at weaving between obstacles he’d rather just tear through. 

Then the fucker starts shooting rockets. V tries to hack the launcher mounted to his shoulder, but she can’t keep him in sight long enough to make the breach. She settles for the old fashioned way and just shoots. Eventually, the launcher explodes in a burst of flame, and Smasher spits a frenzy of curses and threats. He’s graphic in his descriptions of just what he’ll do to her, but lacks imagination as far as V’s concerned. She might as well have a BD scrolling of all the ways she wants to dispose of Arasaka’s pet - and she's got a deep suspicion that more than a few are Johnny’s fantasies instead of hers. 

In the end, when Smasher is on his knees, a mess of sparking wires and mangled scrap metal, V doesn’t have time for anything more elaborate than pressing the barrel of Archangel between Smasher’s glowing eyes. 

“Johnny Silverhand sends his regards.” 

There’s enough of the borg’s face left to register disbelief, and then his features go slack as V curls her finger on the trigger and sends a bullet ripping through Smasher’s skull. 

Breathing hard, she stumbles forwards and falls to her knees. A cough that feels like it’ll bring up her guts wracks her body, and V’s puking gouts of crimson. She manages to sit back, careful to avoid her mess, and takes in a few shuddering breaths. Johnny’s image wavers back and forth in front of her but she ignores him, content to just breathe. 

V’s flagging, she knows. Her limbs feel like jelly, and the relic is a constant hot knife in her brain. She tries and fails to remember the last time she felt so fuckin’ _tired_ , but Johnny’s having none of her whining. 

“My turn to keep a promise.” 

Johnny’s hand closes around her wrist, his real one this time, and he tugs her to her feet. He let’s go once it’s clear she won’t immediately fall on her face, but he stays by her side, flickering in and out of sight as he urges her forward. 

Her own footsteps sound odd to her ears as she trudges down the final corridor, distorted by crackles of static and an echo that seems to reverberate both inside and outside her head. She falls again, and again after that, but each time, Johnny’s there, pulling her up whether she wants him to or not. Finally they reach the chamber, and all that’s left is to cross a narrow walkway to the center of the room. Mikoshi’s access point is waiting on a small island, surrounded by a glittering sea of coolant. 

Alt’s voice, devoid of anything resembling emotion, splits the silence of the chamber as she instructs V to jack in. With hands that feels as heavy and flexible as concrete, V does, then staggers over the side, into the waiting pool below. 

It should be cold, V, notes as the crystalline liquid envelops her. Indeed, if she concentrates, she can feel a gradual chill creeping along her limbs. It’s distant though, like the muted blur of blue that bathes the chamber. Maybe she’s too late after all. A sudden panic grips her, and V flails, sending droplets of coolant flying. Still, she sinks deeper, until her muscles no longer obey her wordless commands. 

It can’t be over yet. There’s still too much she needs to say, things she needs to make him understand. She wants to thank him for staying with her, tell him - 

“I know, V.” Everything is blurred from the coolant, but Johnny’s clear as crystal where he's crouched on the edge above her. He smiles, small and sad as he gives her a little wave. “See you on the other side.”

V let’s her eyes flutter closed, and everything goes black. 

She wakes, and it’s unlike anything she’s ever experienced. There’s no gradual return to consciousness. She simply opens her eyes and she’s aware, as if no time has passed at all. All the aches and pains she remembers have vanished, and what she can see of herself is unblemished and intact. 

A familiar set of stairs greets her, as well as a familiar feline form. She reaches out to scratch Nibbles behind his ears, just the way he likes, and continues climbing the stairs. V’s puzzled to find the cat waiting atop the next landing, but chalks it up to general Net weirdness. Mikoshi has to connect somehow, so it must follow the same rules. Nothing here is real, but that doesn’t stop V from scooping up her pendant when she makes it onto the roof. This is no place for sentiment, but she can’t shake the feeling that ignoring it is as good as leaving a part of her behind. 

As soon as her fingers touch the rusted chain, the image of the roof fades, and V’s surrounded by darkness. 

It takes a moment for her to adjust, but then she sees it’s not so dark after all. A glowing path stretches out before her, and Alt’s voice booms through the inky black. The AI is reciting poetry of all things. Decidedly human, in V’s humble opinion, and definitely something to ponder over. 

Later.

Right now, she has to find Johnny.

V comes to another flight of stairs - wholly unnecessary - and once more revises her opinion of Alt. Sadism is _absolutely_ a human trait, and V can’t see another reason to include such trivialities in a realm that’s beyond physical bodies. 

Just as she’s about to scream, demand Alt show her the way, V sees him. He stands at the edge of a precipice, his back to her as he looks out over the fathomless gloom below. He looks different here; muted and washed out like everything else, but it’s undeniably _him_ . With a shaking hand, V reaches out to grasp the curve of his shoulder. It’s the first time she’s ever touched him, if that’s what she can even call it in this place of raw data and mirage, but he feels so _real_. 

“You’re here.”

He turns, a ghost of a smirk curving his mouth, and nods. “Told you I would be.”

Suddenly, they're sitting at a booth that suspiciously resembles the one in the diner where she first met up with Takemura. Johnny props one booted foot on the table, and sprawls back against the seat like he did during that early conversation. Something’s...off, though. It takes V a few moments to place just what, but when she does, she slumps back, suddenly feeling empty. 

Despite his lazy posture, Johnny’s tense. She can see it in the frenetic way he bounces his other leg. She should be feeling at least a tingle of his anxiety right now, and yet...there’s _nothing_. 

“She already did it,” V whispers. “...separated us.”

“Y’know all that shit I said ‘bout you not bein’ the brightest bulb on stage? Forget it,” Johnny says, making a sweeping motion with his hand. He lets out something like a sigh, and looks down at the table tapping out a nervous rhythm with the fingers of his chrome hand. “Alt lit you up with Soulkiller the second you jacked in.”

V drops her head into her hands as the full weight of the realization washes over her. “Guess your output _really_ don’t fuck around.”

Alt’s digitized persona suddenly towers over them, and V adds ‘god complex’ to her compiled list of the AI’s traits as she tries to calm the erratic flutter of her non-existant heart. “I am not his girlfriend.”

V’s in no mood for irrelevant bullshit. “Whatever. Just tell me exactly what the fuck you did to me.”

Neither her tone or her withering glare have any effect. Alt explains with all the feeling of a standard kitchen appliance. “I applied Soulkiller to separating your two psyches, thereby creating V’s distinct construct.”

A wave of nausea she shouldn’t be able to feel sweeps over V, nearly making her gag. “So I’m already dead.”

Johnny shakes his head, but before he can say anything, Alt interrupts. “As I said, though I did not name Soulkiller, the moniker is apt.”

“Fine. Never believed in all that bullshit, anyway. You’re sayin’ there’s somethin’ left?”

“I was unable to eliminate all the changes made through the Johnny data incursion and overwrite, but V’s engram integrity remains high.”

Johnny takes off his aviators, letting them dangle loosely from his fingers, and rolls his eyes. “So, in human terms? Means you can transfer her psyche back into her brain?”

“As if onto a blank, virgin partition,” the AI confirms. 

“Then it’s settled. You jump back into your body and all this shit’s just a bad dream.”

V shakes her head, anger coiling deep in her chest. How can he just write it off like it’s nothing? Everything they’ve been through...“Fuck you,” she spits at him. “Just like that, it’s over?!”

“There is one aspect I failed to take into account,” the AI chimes in.

“Alt?” 

V’s never heard that tone from Johnny before. Not in all his wildest memories. It’s a mix between anger and dread, like he already knows the answer to what he’s asking.

Alt carries on, oblivious. “The body as a key factor in this transaction.” 

She rambles on about DNA and the drugs meant to prolong V’s life, her own immune system attacking her, and V’s had enough.

Nerves harden V’s tone, sharpen her words into a blade as keen as any katana. She wants to wound, but that’s beyond her now. All she can settle for is getting her goddamned point across. “Just fuckin’ spit it out already!”

“You will die. After I transfer your construct into your body, it is inevitable. It is imminent.”

V takes a moment to let it sink in. She doesn’t need as long as she once would’ve thought. From where she’s standing, the answer seems pretty simple. It’s a blessing and a curse, all rolled into one, but her choice is clear. “Okay.”

“Okay?! You fuckin’ serious, V? There’s gotta be another way! Alt, you’re a goddamn genius. Just figure it out!”

“She shall live for about six months. Perhaps somewhat more. Her body will see her as an intruder.” Alt looks at V, and the full weight of her stare feels suffocating. Only by sheer will does V keep herself from fidgeting, but beneath the weight of the AI’s fathomless gaze, she feels something akin to pity. “The chip’s nanites have altered it permanently. The body is now Johnny.”

“Give us a minute, Alt. V and I need to talk.”

There’s nothing to talk about from where she’s standing, but V will at least hear him out. She owes Johnny that much. 

He doesn’t waste any time. “We stick to the plan. You go back into your body, and I go with Alt, fuck knows where.”

“Has she said where she's takin’ you?”

Johnny waves a flippant hand. “Beyond the Blackwall. To become a part of her - whatever the fuck that means.”

“The Blackwall?” V asks, incredulous. “You, never done a dive in your life. You got any idea how dangerous that is? You’ll lose your fuckin’ mind!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m just code, V. A relic of the real Silverhand. You…” He shakes his head, hands spread as if pleading for her to understand. “You still got a chance.”

“I died in that junkyard, if that’s how you wanna play it. Said so yourself - Dex got the better of me. Put a fuckin’ _bullet_ in my brain, in case you don’t remember. Only reason we’re even here arguin’ over this bullshit is ‘cause of _you_! _You_ saved _me_.”

“V…”

“No, fuck this!” V jumps up, and the booth disappears. She’s free to pace along the black expanse of whatever hell Alt’s trapped them in. “Meant what I said back at the Pistis Sophia. Time for _me_ to have _your_ back for once.”

“Oh, fuck off. Playin’ the martyr ‘cause you’re too scared to say goodbye?” Johnny snorts, and the sound is pure disgust. “Expected better, V. Really.”

V blinks against the phantom burn of her eyes and forces a grin. Johnny can piss and moan all he wants. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s right. “Call it pragmatism, you cranky fuck. Six months or a lifetime… Choice seems pretty clear to me.” Summoning the last vestiges of her will, V tips her head towards the black ether that passes for a sky. “Alt, what do I do?”

“V, stop!”

“For what?” V snaps. “Been with you through thick and thin, and I don’t know ‘bout you, but to me, that _means_ something. You got some kinda happy ending tucked up your sleeve, I’m all ears.”

For a moment, V lets herself believe that he’s found a way. She lets herself _hope_. Then Johnny shakes his head, shoulders slumping, and she knows. The last ember of anything resembling such a foolish sentiment dims and grows cold as he replies, “Here, for folks like us? Wrong city, wrong people.”

“Yet the right to make a choice you have earned, through will and endeavor.”

Baseless platitudes, but it’s the first thing Alt’s said that V can get behind. A _choice_. Something no one can take away from her, a way she can still go out on her terms. Not in six months, as her body slowly fails. Not depending on the goodwill of friends she has no right to burden. 

Johnny has a second chance, real as they come. Maybe not the one he wanted, but she _knows_ him. Knows just how many regrets he’s tried to bury, how much shit he’s left undone. For her part, V can say she’s content. So it didn’t go the way she wanted, the way she dreamed, but she’s loved and she's been loved in kind - whether the asshole ever admits it or not, she knows the truth. And if that kind of shallow shit still mattered to her, she could even say she’s got her legacy. She’ll live on through Johnny. Whatever he becomes will in some small part be because of her. 

It’s not like V imagined. It doesn’t even come close to the stories she and Jackie used to spin, but it’s _real_. It feels right in a way those younger versions of V couldn’t begin to comprehend. 

Rogue once said that she must’ve been a positive influence on Johnny. Now V knows the truth. That worked both ways between them, just like everything else. If she’s touched him, then he’s touched her. Shaped her, molded her into someone she could be proud of. She might not’ve agreed with all of his methods, but he’s always stayed true to his principles. She owes Johnny everything for showing her the value of that alone, but this one thing will have to suffice. Her gift to him.

“Johnny keeps my body.”

“Then you will join with me,” Alt replies, and V can’t help but think this was the way the AI wanted it all along. 

“Fine.”

“You must cross the bridge.” Alt turns to extend a hand, and a road comes to life before her, leading to a pillar of golden light. “Permanently sever the final connection with your physical form.”

V’s no sooner taken her first steps down that glowing path when Johnny appears in front of her. “Just like that?” he sneers, giving her a shove. “Turnin’ your back on the problem again?”

“Only one’s got a problem is you,” V retorts, stepping past him. It hurts, to see his anger, his disdain, but she won’t let it stop her. Six months for a lifetime. She repeats it to herself like a mantra. One of them can have a life, something real and lasting. Not the happy ending she longed for, but she realizes now that that was only a fool’s dream. 

And fuck, she was _such_ a fool...

V thinks back to Misty’s readings and thinks there might’ve been something to ‘em after all. ‘Course, she’d been too blinded by visions of grandeur to really pay heed, but it’s all coming back now. The warnings V’d brushed off like so much hippie crap, the predictions that all came true…

_You may meet someone fascinating, someone charismatic...maybe even someone you’ll grow to love?_

V’s sure Johnny would have something to say if he knew, but that’s over now. For the first time in a long time, her thoughts are blissfully her own. 

Even so, Johnny’s not ready to call it quits. He materializes in front of her again, and this time he grabs her, pulls her to a stop so V has no other choice but to face him. 

“You just given’ up? Gonna roll over and decomish instead of fightin’ for what’s yours?”

Somehow, V summons the courage to meet his eyes. She knows why he’s angry, and she refuses to hide from it. If their circumstances were reversed, she’d be pretty pissed, too. ‘S’only luck that put her in the driver’s seat this time around. Luck, and a promise, forged in the filth of a grungy hotel room. “Stop, Johnny. Just stop.”

V can’t bear the thought of him hating her - not after all they’ve been through. But on the same token, she can’t choose another path. “Principle, right? That’s all we got.”

“Fuck you, V. You really gonna throw that in my face now? After all this…. What happened to promises? You kept yours, now let me keep mine.”

“You already did, Johnny. Ain’t my fuckin’ fault if you can’t see it. I don’t wanna be your latest crusade.

“That what you think this is?! Jesus, V…”

“No,” V’s quick to interject. “It’s not... _fuck_. Why can’t you see?” 

She knows as soon as she asks. As close as the chip brought them, they’re still two different people, with different ambitions and goals. “I’m not your redemption, Johnny.”

“And I sure as fuck ain’t yours.”

“Good! Wasn’t askin’ you to be!”

V turns, but before she can continue on, Johnny blocks her way again. “You’re loyal, grant you that. But just as fuckin’ dense as the first time we met.”

This time, it’s V that shoves him. He’s warm and solid beneath her touch. Real. If she pulls him closer, she could probably smell him, too. A trick of this place, some long lost memory itching to manifest in her mind, but she can’t let it sway her. There’s only one outcome; her, or him. 

“It’s my decision. Fuck off and let me make it.”

He backs away, like she knew he would, but instead of feeling like she won, V can only see the ways they’re both about to lose. One pill, and it’d be her screamin’ at him, thinkin’ he just didn’t care. She pauses a moment to take the revelation in, and Johnny’s back. 

“Why, V? Why you doin’ this? We had a plan…”

V’s voice cracks and she has to swallow before she can get the words out. “I know. G’bye, Johnny.”

She extends her hand, and at first, Johnny doesn’t move. Still she waits, arm outstretched, until Johnny’s fingers finally clasp warm around hers. Whatever he’s feeling, and V’s sure it’s less than charitable right about now, he still doesn’t leave her hanging. It’s _that_ side of him that she wants right now, that side of him that drove her to give him a second chance after he bared his soul to her amidst the smoke and fumes of the oil fields.

It’s the Johnny that raved about a fortune telling bot, the one that was fascinated by a stray. He teased her about the old coaster out at Pacifica - 'cause _of course_ he did - but he was also the first one strapped in and waiting once she got the power back on.

She gives his hand a squeeze and turns to leave, but Johnny doesn’t let go. Instead, he tugs her forward, only stopping when she’s nearly flush against his chest. 

“Why?” he asks again. Quieter this time, sounding near broken. 

“You already know.”

She wants to leave it like that, give him an out if that’s what he needs. A chance to pretend. He already told her she’s not his type, and though she never intended her stupid quip to cut so deep, the truth’s already laid out between them. Still, she needs him to know. Not just her feelings, but that he was worth them all.

Maybe that’s why she stretches up on her toes, or maybe she’s just selfish, taking what she can get while she can. 

Either way, he’s too fuckin’ tall. 

V never noticed before now, but it’s all she can do to close the gap between them. Somehow, she manages, and her lips meet his. It’s not long before Johnny breaks away, but instead of pushing her back, his arms wrap around her, pulling her against him and bowing his head to meet hers.

“Just scared for you, V,” he murmurs into her hair.

She is too, but she’ll never say it aloud. “Thanks,” she breathes, swallowing past a tight lump in her throat. That shouldn’t be there, either, but she’s done asking questions or trying to make sense. Fighting to keep her voice steady, she chokes out, “For everything, Johnny.” He finally lets her go, and V takes a step back, sends him a watery smile. “Don’t forget me, okay?”

“Not even if I wanted to.”

“Tell everyone….oh, fuck it,” V laughs and wipes her eyes. “The hell would you even say? Just...you do you. Whatever that means.”

Fearing his response, V quickly turns. Each step she takes towards that bright pillar of light sends a fresh wave of calm suffusing every fiber of her being. She made the right choice.

Two souls, the zenmaster said, and both hers. 

Whatever happens to her beyond the Blackwall, one of them will live on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that's left comments/kudos! Feedback means the world to me, and I'm ecstatic people are enjoying this.

The first sensation to return is one of floating. Reminds him of being high, but the cold steadily creeping over him doesn’t fit. The next thing he notices is a wash of blue behind his closed eyes, soft and muted. He wonders briefly if he’s dead, but that seems wrong, too. 

Somehow, he already knows what dying feels like. It’s pain and rage and fear; not this gentle drift. And after...after there’s only confusion and darkness. Wandering lost down infinite corridors.

Whatever this is, it’s not that. There’s a clear direction, an incessant tug that pulls at his awareness. He could leave if he wanted, a choice he knows on some instinctive level wasn’t available to him before. 

The thought of that freedom terrifies him more than the endless maze. 

Someone calls to him. He tries to ignore the intrusion, reaches for oblivion like a blanket, but that damned voice rips it from his grasp. 

“Johnny….escape….. cleared a route…..hurry.”

The voice is familiar, but it’s not the one he’s waiting for. Too flat, too even. It rings out again, sandpaper against a wound that’s already raw and bleeding, and something inside him flinches like a cornered animal.

Cornered. Trapped and pacing in a new prison, a new level of hell, he thinks, only... he’s not alone. 

He’d forgotten what that was like, forgotten so many things…

_“Nice to be behind the wheel again?”_

_“Honestly, never felt better - like in my life.”_

He knows what comes next. An image forms in his mind, one he’s desperate to avoid. He squeezes his eyes tight against it, but it’s been burned into his brain. He can’t unsee, can’t forget.

_She’s sitting on cracked and pitted pavestone, half slumped against the peeling concrete of a grimy hotel wall. Drained and beat to shit, dried blood still crusted in the corner of her mouth, but she manages a small smile - a real one, not the fake, plastic thing she flashes at her friends to keep them from worrying._

_“Yeah, well... thanks for savin’ my ass anyway, Johnny.”_

  
  


His stomach twists and his eyes open against his will to nothing but watery blue. Thick liquid pours into his mouth and he gags, lashing out in panic. He turns his head, manages to suck in a quick breath, and feels it freeze in his lungs as he sees the inked lines of a tattoo on the inside of his arm. 

_Johnny + V._

It was the most obnoxious, juvenile design he could think up, but V hadn’t had it removed. He’d been right; she’d loved it...eventually. 

She’d loved _him_. 

Feeling blindly, he rips the cable that still connects him to Mikoshi from V’s neural port and uses what little strength remains in her battered form to haul himself from the pool. The lights of the server brighten and blur in a rush of stinging heat behind his eyes and he’s drowning again, choking on salt.

On his hands and knees, he vomits coolant and bile until his chest aches and the trembling of his arms threatens to send him face first into his own sick. When it finally stops, he clumsily sits back, only to lose his balance and land hard on his hip. He ignores the sudden dull throb, all his attention focused on the shape of V’s hands. 

His now, whether he wants them or not. Johnny curls his fingers into a shaking fist as the full, crushing weight of that realization settles over him, and he wants to scream. What comes out is barely a whisper, but hearing it in her voice is a knife straight to his heart all the same.

“Fuck... _V_...”

“Has made her choice,” Alt drones from somewhere overhead. “One you will soon render moot if you do not escape the tower.”

That gets him moving. V fought too hard, _gave too much_. He’ll go because it’s what she wanted, though he can’t help wondering if she ever considered just what she was asking of him.

“Additional security forces are en route. I have cleared the way, but you must hurry.”

The lights that glow beneath the pool of coolant dim and go dark, only to flicker to life in small panels in the ceiling. One by one, they flare and fade, leading back to the chamber’s entrance. He follows them down the otherwise darkened corridor and nearly stumbles when Alt leads him past the still-smoking remains of Smasher. 

That was supposed to be it. His final request. It was never gonna change anything; he knew that, but dealing with Smasher wasn’t about righting Johnny’s many wrongs. It was about purging the worst of his demons - his and Rogue’s. There was never supposed to be a chance to ruminate after, only the promise of oblivion, the vague hope that the people he cared about would finally move on with their lives without his ghost holding them back.

“Time is limited, Johnny, as is my ability to retain control of Arasaka’s network.”

With one final glance at Smasher, Johnny follows the lights down one twisting passage to another. Nothing looks familiar, but it makes sense Alt would take him a different route. Walking in the front door was near suicide. He’s not gettin’ back out the same way, even with the help of an AI. 

Johnny doesn’t know how long he wanders beneath the tower. Time’s lost all meaning; like Mikoshi, but not quite. Instead of an infinite present, there’s only the future, bleak and without bounds; an endless stretch of tomorrows when he can’t even summon the courage to make it through today. 

He will, somehow. He has to. V sacrificed everything to give him a second chance, and fuck him for even thinking of spitting on that. So he continues on, one leaded step after another, until Alt finally stops him at the mouth of a wide tunnel. 

“I can assist you no further. This will lead you to a construction site beyond the city proper. Personnel have been neutralized, but I advise you to hurry.”

Even if he knew what to say, he can’t bring himself to speak. He nods instead and turns to leave, but the AI’s voice stops him once more. For the first time since her return from behind the Blackwall, Johnny hears something of the old Alt in her inflection. “You are alive, Johnny. Is this not what you wanted?”

“Not like this, Alt. _Fuck_ …was supposed to be V livin’ out whatever time she had left.”

“And yet, she chose otherwise, believing you to be deserving of the same. I find that...fascinating.”

“Is she...did you…?” Unable to finish, Johnny wipes a hand over his face - _V’s_ face - and stares at the wet streaks of mascara that stain his fingers.

“V’s engram remains intact. It waits in Mikoshi with the other constructs.”

“Jesus, Alt, you just fuckin’ left her there?” The thought of V trapped and alone leaves Johnny sick. It’s all he can do to keep from puking again. 

“They are safe there, sheltered from the dangers of cyberspace until Mikoshi is no more.”

His heart jumps at that, something like hope unfurling deep in his chest. He hates the feeling, hates himself more for the way he can’t help but latch onto it. V’s still there - still _her_. 

For now. 

Alt gets her way, she’ll make V part of her code. No better than the chip overwriting her with _him_ , far as he can see, a fate Johnny knows V feared more than her own death. 

He can’t tell if it’s the echo of that fear that shrivels his stomach, or his own. Either way, it bubbles up his throat, the words tumbling from his mouth faster than his brain can keep up. “Must be hundreds of constructs there - maybe thousands. You don’t need V.”

“Need is irrelevant. I offer the chance to become something greater.”

“‘S’only an offer if it can be refused. V deserves to decide for herself.”

“What you ask is illogical. Whether I integrate her engram or allow its code to remain distinct, the V you knew will cease to exist. Beyond the stagnation of Mikoshi, this outcome is inevitable."

She says it like he doesn’t already know, like he’s not speaking to the disembodied proof of what living in the Net does to a person. The possibility of the same thing happening to V scares the shit out of Johnny, but it’s gotta be better than Alt patchin’ her in like so much soft. 

“So she changes - ‘least it’s on her terms. ‘Least she’s _free_. Christ, Alt, thought that meant somethin’ to ya!”

Alt doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches until Johnny’s sure she’s fucked off to whatever corner of cyberspace she calls home, but then she finally speaks, her voice soft. Subdued. “I will consider your request. Go now, Johnny. We will not meet again.”

As if to make her point, the ground shudders beneath his feet, and the gates on either side of the tunnel begin to close with a grating whine. He’s left with no choice but to continue forward, to a life he doesn’t deserve in a body he feels like he stole. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


V haunts him. 

Not just her face, though that’s bad enough. Johnny’s taken to avoiding mirrors entirely, but it doesn’t stop the prickle that runs up and down his spine, the little shiver between his shoulder blades that warns he’s got eyes on him. _Her_ eyes. 

Sounds crazy, even to him; some warped figment of his imagination brought on by guilt and grief, but he can feel her, so strong at times it’s like she never left. He talks to her then, when the silence grows too loud, when the empty space in his head threatens to swallow him whole. 

He tells her how hollow he feels wearing her face, how utterly _wrong_. He tells her how he wants to tear and cut until he’s excised every last bit of him from her, ‘cause maybe then he’ll find her again, like healthy tissue beneath a putrid wound. 

She doesn’t answer once throughout his tirade, but she’s there, faded in the grime of the window. He wants a fight - she _owes_ him one after rolling over in Mikoshi - but it’s _his_ words he hears falling from her mouth, _his_ movements she mimics as she paces, matching him stride for stride. She’s nothing but reflection when he craves release, an empty vessel for his rage. He’d hate her if he could, if the very thought didn’t crumple her tear-streaked face in a look of absolute heartbreak.

His voice finally fails, and she slumps with him, spent. There’s a nasty stain on the threadbare carpet not two inches from where he’s sitting, but Johnny can’t find the will to move away. The ripped wallpaper isn’t in much better shape, spattered in something the same color and consistency as the floor. Just another shit motel room, near identical to the one he’d ranted about when they’d escaped Arasaka after the parade. 

_Just two fuckin’ losers…_

He looks over at the smudged glass again and she looks back. Her expression is hard to see in the glare of neon lights, but her lips quirk in a little grin and somehow, he sleeps.

That night he dreams, bright lines amidst a backdrop of black. She’s there, less yet somehow more, the contours of her body limned in the glow of a pillar of gold light. Again, he feels the softness of her lips, the tickle of her breath, tastes the warm salt of tears she shouldn’t be able to shed.

Not in that place. Not for him. 

Johnny wakes with her words still ringing in his ears, and for those few seconds, her voice is wholly hers. 

_“You already know.”_

He did, well before that moment in Mikoshi. Kind of hard to ignore with V’s feelings bleeding all over the both of them, but fuck did he try. That road was paved in ruin.

He’d warned her that night in the oil fields. Told her about Alt, Kerry, Rogue; how he’d used and betrayed every last one of them. V was supposed to be different - the one time he didn’t fuck it up, throw it all away. 

She’d thrown her life away instead. 

Anger flares deep in his gut, but it burns quick as a lit match, leaving him empty and numb. He can’t hate her - can’t even stay mad. All he can feel is the black void she’s left behind. Rolling over on the lumpy mattress, Johnny curls on his side. He stares at a water stain in the corner of the wall so he won’t have to see her in the window, the shattered look in her eyes. 

It’s nearly three days later when he finally drags himself from bed, and only then because he’s decided the stain on the wall looks a little like a cat. His stomach drops at the sudden reminder of Nibbles, guilt lodging in his throat like a stone when he realizes the cat is alone, locked in V’s apartment. Much as he dreads the thought of going back, every corner and cranny a stark reminder of _her_ , V would never forgive him if he let her beloved pet starve. 

He’d never forgive himself. 

It’s been fifty years since he drove, but V still has the last of Del’s cabs. Good kid, that one, and every bit as loyal as a certain gonk merc. Not the best at driving solo, but Excelsior manages to pick him up, and between the two of them, they get back to Night City. The cab doesn’t seem to notice it’s not V in the driver’s seat - literally or otherwise - and Johnny keeps the conversation to a minimum. It’s too fresh, too painful to go picking at that wound just yet, to go opening the same in others. Or so he tells himself. 

Deep down, he knows he’s just a coward. 

He’s itching for a smoke as he rides the elevator to V’s floor, maybe a shot or six to go with it, but he shakes the thought away before it’s even fully formed. He won’t use her body like that again, not after she was generous enough to give him a second chance. A temple turned purgatory, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make it her fuckin’ shrine.

The door opens, and the first thing he sees is that stupid tour shirt hanging in the closet. A wave of grief crashes over him, nearly knocks him to his knees as his thoughts are swept back to that day in Kabuki. 

_V’s arms are crossed against her chest, hip cocked as she leans against the counter and repeats what Johnny tells her, never suspecting he’s lying through his teeth. ‘S’not like they’re chooms or anything. He doesn’t owe her his past, but the easy confidence she exudes, the assumption that he’ll just hand it over so she can play poser grates on his nerves._

_The sad sack of shit that’s probably his last real fan calls bullshit on her, just like Johnny knew he would. V’s blinks and her smirk slips, only to widen to a grin a moment later as she shakes her head._

_“Alright, alright,” she laughs - actually fuckin’ laughs, like he didn’t just make her look like NC’s biggest gonk. Hands raised in surrender, she catches Johnny’s eye, still grinning as she gives him a tiny nod. “Prolly deserved that.”_

_“Definitely deserved it,” Johnny grumbles, but he relents and tells her about the fire and Denny’s singed Fro._

_They aren’t friends, but maybe - just maybe - they actually_ can _get along._

The memory fades and Johnny gasps in a shaking breath, the heels of his hands pressed tight against the sting in his eyes. A part of him wants to flee. Every square inch of the place is covered in V - her clothes, her tacky taste in decor - even the smell of her fuckin’ soap. He wants to run from it all and never look back, but he’s got biz to take care of first. This one last thing he can do for her. 

Swallowing hard, he steps across the threshold, trying to block out all the little details of V as he looks for Nibbles.

He figures he’ll take him to Barry. Guy seems like a good sort. Could probably use another friend, and he wasn’t close enough to V to start asking uncomfortable questions.

Too bad he can’t find the damn cat anywhere. Just as he’s summoned the nerve to check the bed, the bathroom door opens with a hiss, and Johnny catches a shock of wild blonde hair from the corner of his eye. 

He freezes, vaguely aware of the tinkling of broken glass as the small bowl Misty was holding falls to the floor. 

“V! You scared me.” Misty lets out a breathless laugh, one hand tight against her chest. She tilts her head to study him a moment and her smile fades along with any color in her cheeks as her hand falls limply to her side. “ _Oh_ ,” she breathes, a wealth of sorrow in that single sound. “ ...Hi, Johnny.”

He glances at the door again, sheer panic thrumming in his veins. It’s still open, but before he can will his legs to move, Misty takes his hand and tugs him to the couch. “Don’t do that,” she scolds gently. 

She pats the cushion next to her, lips curved in a sad smile, and waits. Misty’s known about him from the start, knew he was slowly killing V, and yet she never seemed to hold it against him. Maybe he owes her the truth for that - he definitely owes V - so he collapses more than sits beside her. One knowing look, the light pressure of her hand on his shoulder, and it all pours out of him in shuddering sobs.

“She told me she couldn’t do it,” Misty says softly when he finally goes quiet. “Trade your life for hers.”

“I was already dead.”

Her hair bounces as she shakes her head. “Not quite. And not to her.” 

Misty sighs and sits back, hands in her lap, and continues as if he never spoke. “I don’t know if she ever realized just how many people she had that felt the same way about her.” Her lips lift in a small smile as she nods at the tags around his neck. “Well, she knew about one, at least.”

Johnny runs a finger over the engraved metal, tracing each individual letter as he asks, “She told you ‘bout these?”

“No. But those are tied to you, your...energy, I guess. They must’ve meant something to you, and for you to give them to her…”

“Proof of a promise,” Johnny whispers hoarsely. “That when the time came, I wouldn’t… wouldn’t-”

“And you didn’t.”

“How the fuck you figure?” Johnny scoffs, scrubbing a rough hand over his face. “I’m sittin’ here in her fuckin’ skin!”

Again, Misty ignores his protest, instead giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I miss her, too.”

His eyes burn again, vision going blurry. He’d blame it on foreign hormones, but he’s pretty sure the sharp, persistent ache in his chest has nothing to do with those. Misty’s right. He _misses_ her. 

Misty gets up and leaves him be. He can hear her moving around the apartment, picking up the shards of Nibbles’ water bowl. She sets a new one down, and disappears from his line of sight, returning a few minutes later with a folded change of clothes. 

“Get cleaned up and I'll find you something to eat.”

Johnny just shakes his head. As awkward as it is, taking care of V’s body includes keeping up with basic hygiene. He knows that...just not here. Not now. 

“Come on,” Misty prods. “You’ll feel better after a shower. So will anyone who has to share the elevator with you,” she adds with a teasing grin.

Johnny scowls, but lets her herd him into the bathroom. Once alone, he washes, rinses, and dries off as quickly as possible, ignoring the urge to linger beneath the shower’s hot spray. There’s too many memories of V doing the same, memories that quickly change to her passed out on the floor, streams of crimson swirling down the drain.

Hurriedly, he dresses, grateful Misty chose a plain dark tee shirt and jeans. The pants are loose, he notices with a guilty pang, but at least it’s not anything that directly reminds him of V.

When he leaves the bathroom, Misty has food waiting. Boxed ramen shit, but the place isn’t set up for much in the way of cooking beyond an old microwave. Still, he takes a few bites, all he feels like he can really hold down, and is rewarded for his efforts with another one of those sweet smiles. 

“Why’re you helpin’ me?” Johnny asks suddenly, pushing aside the remains of his noodles. “Not a week ago, I was killin’ her.” 

_And now, I’m all that’s left._

“Because she loved you. And because you love her. That makes you alright, in my book.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. Can’t deny it, but it’s an admission that hurts too much to make. Misty seems to understand. 

“Take as much time as you need, okay? I’ll go and get out of your hair.”

“‘M’not stayin’,” Johnny shrugs, unable to meet her eyes as he gestures toward Nibbles. “Just came by to check on the cat.”

He doesn’t bother to explain that being back here makes his chest feel like he’s swallowed broken glass, that he can’t take a full breath while he’s drowning in V. Turns out he doesn’t have to. 

“It’s okay,” Misty soothes. “I’ll just take him with me. He can help me keep the roaches away at the shop.”

His throat tight, Johnny nods. It’s not exactly what he’d planned, but he’s gotten what he came for. Seems like Misty’s already been looking after Nibbles, and V’d probably prefer her, anyway. He turns to go, and Misty reaches out, fingers wrapping around his wrist to pull him into a hug. 

“It gets easier,” she whispers, sniffling into his shoulder. “I promise.” She steps back and gives him a watery smile. “Take care of yourself, Johnny. For her.”

She has a good soul, but her kindness is wasted on him. Unable to take another second, he flees. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Misty’s not wrong, but Johnny can’t exactly say she was right, either. It doesn’t get easier. V is still a gaping wound in his chest, but over time, it becomes just another part of him, like any scar he’s learned to ignore. He still talks to her, still can’t get over the feeling she somehow hears every word. 

After a month of sleazy motels, he’s scrounged together enough eddies for his own place. He goes back to Kabuki, to his last fan, and sells the few possessions he still has from his old life. He can almost hear V’s disappointed sigh, but it’s his shit, and a man’s gotta eat. He keeps the porsche, though. She’s always been good to him; even if he can’t so much as look at her without thinking of that night at his grave. 

Life drags on, and the days keep passing. Johnny can’t say he’s settling in, but he’s gotten pretty good at pretending. There’s routine, if nothing else, and he takes comfort in the simplicity of it. Eventually, he gets his hands on a guitar. It’s cheap battered plywood, the kind of shit the old Silverhand wouldn’t’ve been caught dead holding, but it plays a halfway decent tune. Helps drown out the yelling of his neighbors, if nothing else. 

‘Course, they aren’t all bad. The kid seems friendly enough, if a little lonely. The day Johnny brings his new axe home, he runs into Steve outside the building - probably trying to get away from his shithead parents. Kid’s practically got stars in his eyes when he sees the guitar, and in some strange turn of events he can only blame on V, Johnny’s agreed to teach him a few chords the next day. 

He’s a regular feature after that, and oddly enough, Johnny doesn’t mind. The kid’s a little rough, but he’s got real talent. Time and practice will take care of the rest. A boost to his confidence can’t hurt, either. Kid sports fresh bruises every few days, and Johnny’s not dumb enough to believe Steve’s mumbled excuses. 

Nights are the hardest. No distractions, and even Steve’s folks have settled down or passed out for awhile. Johnny still can’t bring himself to call any of V’s chooms. Misty knows the truth. Coward that he is, he can only hope she’ll pass on the news when the time is right. 

He almost calls Kerry. He’s one push of a button away from connecting the call when he hesitates, puts the holo down.

Free of Johhny's shadow.

That’s what Ker wanted, what he finally achieved. Dropping in now feels wrong. He’ll just set him back. 

He does call Rogue. She doesn’t get back to him right away, but when she finally does, it goes about as badly as he expected. Not that he can blame her. Most of what she said is true. Plenty isn’t, but he can’t even hold that against her. He’s given her no reason to believe otherwise. She ends her message with a warning to leave Night City and it’s then that Johnny realizes she’s got a point. She won’t make good on any threats - they’ve been through too much for that - but there’s nothing left for him here. That chapter of his life is done. Everyone he knew is gone or moved on. If he’s ever going to have the fresh start V wanted for him, it can’t be here, clinging to ancient history. 

There’s a few loose ends he needs to wrap up, but once he’s made up his mind, he feels more unburdened than he ever has. 

Steve agrees to play chauffeur, and Johnny gets him his own guitar as a reward. Not the piece of shit he’s been strumming, either. Who knows, maybe one day he’ll be able to say he knew the next Eurodyne. 

The thought makes him smile, even as his next task feels like a weight settling into the pit of his stomach. 

_Dreamer_. 

It’s the most fitting epitaph he can think of. V dared to dream, in a city that thrives on destroying all hope. Naive, maybe, but she believed in a piece of shit like him, even when it cost her everything. 

He lays her pendant in the niche with all the reverence of a pilgrim handling a holy relic and waves it closed. 

“I’m wiser now,” he promises. “I won’t waste what you’ve given me.”

Steve’s waiting for him at his car, cigarette in hand. Johnny slaps it away before the thought can even enter his mind and gives the kid a lecture the old Silverhand would’ve cringed at. Over the top maybe, but he’ll stand by every word. Kid’s got too much goin’ for him to fuck it up by falling into bad habits. 

He boards the bus that will take him from Night City and finds a seat. Just as it starts to pull away from the curb, Steve’s there, running alongside in a near panic over the axe he left in his car. His eyes go wide when Johnny assures him he didn’t forget anything, and the poor kid's left standing dumbstruck in a cloud of exhaust and dust. 

Johnny tips his head back, and lets out a sigh. His lets his thoughts drift as he listens to the dull hum of the engine, and at one point, he dozes. The shrill ring of his holo startles him awake. He blinks in confusion. It’s a new device -no one has the number. He checks, and there’s no image, no name, only the red flash of an error message. He ignores the call, but as soon as it disconnects, it rings again. The third time, he finally snaps a response, equal parts frustration and morbid curiosity.

“The fuck do you want?”

There’s nothing but static at first, then he hears a voice. It’s faint, but it doesn’t matter. He knows this voice as well as his own.

“Still just a cranky old fuck, aren’t ya? Oh, well. ‘Least now you can say you’re cute.”

His mouth’s gone dry as the Badlands, and it takes him a moment to remember how to form words.

_“...V?”_

“Yeah, Johnny. It’s me.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the wonderful comments! They really brighten my day

_“Yeah, Johnny. It’s me.”_

A dozen questions flit through his mind, but before any of them can make it past his lips, a burst of static crackles in his ear loud enough to make him wince and the call goes dead. For a moment, he can only stare. 

What the fuck just happened? 

Could be he’s finally cracked; slid headfirst off the deep end like Spider claimed all those years ago, but a quick check of the holo’s logs confirms there _was_ a call. Nineteen seconds, name and number unavailable. 

If the call was real...

Johnny shakes his head, fingers tightening around the receiver until the plastic case creaks in protest. To finish that thought is to let hope take root - hope he can’t afford. Not when it could still turn out to be some kind of trap, or just some twisted fuck trying to mess with his head. 

What he can’t figure is _why_. 

Only Rogue and Misty know the truth. The former’s not that cruel, no matter how much he’s managed to piss her off, and Misty… Johnny dismisses the idea with a soft snort. Girl doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. If someone was playing games, it wasn’t her. 

Arasaka comes to mind, but again, he can’t make it add up. Maybe they got V in their sights after what went down at the tower, but they have no reason to believe it was anyone but her that walked out of there. Word on the street says ‘Saka took a bigger hit that night than they’re letting on. If that’s true, they’ve got bigger targets to point their dwindling resources at. Besides, their style of retaliation tended to lean more toward armored goons, not cryptic calls. 

The more he thinks about it, the closer he inches toward a conclusion he can’t yet bear to contemplate.

It’s not impossible; Alt was able to contact him while she was imprisoned within Arasaka’s subnet. Assuming she hadn’t been swallowed along with the other constructs, V’s free. She wasn’t on the same level as Alt - few 'runners were, even when Alt had been entirely human - but Johnny has no doubt V’s smart enough to figure out a way to reach him if she wanted to.

Against his will, a spark flares to life deep inside his chest. Johnny sits back with a sigh. It hurts, this flicker of hope, burns as much as it soothes, but he can’t stop himself from reaching for it, trying to coax it brighter still. 

If it was her, and he can’t convince himself it wasn’t, is she still the same V? Is she safe? Something happened to disconnect the call and it makes his gut squirm with worry. The idea that he might’ve lost her before he even had the chance to wrap his head around her being back has his heart racing and his palms damp with sweat. He chews at his thumbnail, then curls his fingers into a tight fist when he recognizes the behavior as one of V’s nervous tics. He used to give her shit about it; all that time she spent painting her nails, only to ruin them a day or two later. He’s not sure when he picked up the habit, but as he slowly relaxes his hand, a glance at his ragged fingernails tells him it was well before today. 

Taking in a deep breath through his nose, Johnny lets his head fall back against the seat with a hard thump. There’s an urge to repeat the motion, but he quells it, bouncing his leg instead in a rush of restless energy. 

Fuck, he wants a smoke. Some air, maybe, or just off this fuckin’ bus. The seat’s too small all the sudden, like he can’t stretch his legs. He tries anyway, far as they’ll go, and sees there’s plenty of room for V’s small frame. 

It doesn’t help. 

That stifled feeling grows until it presses like a weight against his chest, sends sharp prickles of heat along his skin and cold sweat beading at his brow. 

When the bus finally pulls into the next station, Johnny doesn’t think, he just moves. In his haste, he nearly runs into the woman in front of him, but he ignores her affronted huff, the glare she tosses over her shoulder, and hurries her forward with an impatient flick of his hand. Dick move, even for him, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

The breath he draws when his feet finally take that last step off the bus is acrid with exhaust fumes, but he holds it in anyway, savors it like it’s his last. Slowly, the tightness around his ribs recedes and he feels the sharp knot in his stomach relax. He hasn’t got the first fuckin’ clue what he’s doing, but his gut tells him he’s on the right track. 

The clerk gives Johnny a look from behind her monitor as she exchanges his ticket. “Just couldn’t get away, eh?” she asks, holding out his new ticket with a knowing arch to her brow.

“Guess not.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first. Once the city’s got ya, it never lets go.”

His reasons got fuck all to do with Night City, but she’s not entirely wrong, either. He takes his ticket with a small nod of thanks and has to swallow a curse when he sees the bus he needs isn’t scheduled to run until the next day. Inconvenient as hell, but the station’s roughly sixty miles from the border, in the middle of absolute fuckin’ nowhere. Unless he wants to go on foot, there’s nothing to do but wait. 

The clerk’s kind enough to give him directions to the nearest motel, and Johnny heads off to find a room for the night. There’s no hope of sleep, but he lays down on the grimy mattress anyway, arms propped behind his head, and tries to ignore the anxiety gnawing at the pit of his stomach. No matter how many times he tries to redirect his thoughts, they always circle back to the dropped call. 

Anything could’ve happened, but it’s hard not to think of the worst. A couple hours of that, and he’s wound so tight he can practically feel the tension vibrating beneath his skin. The room’s gone stuffy, reeks of mold and must and the faint stench of piss. Climbing from the bed, Johnny slips outside to the balcony that wraps around the second floor. 

There’s not much of a view beyond cracked asphalt and broken down cars, but the air is fresher at least. He leans against the railing, patting absently at his jacket for a cig before he catches himself and shoves his hands in his pockets instead. A vending machine in the corner catches his eye, but Johnny resolutely ignores it. The cravings are especially bad tonight, but he made V a promise - one he’s determined to keep this time.

It’s dark with no lights from the city. Quiter, too, in a way that would prove unnervingly similar to Mikoshi if his head wasn’t already buzzing with the chatter of his own thoughts. He lets them wash over him, focused on a stray breeze that ruffles the ends of his hair. The sudden chirp of his holo takes him by surprise as it shatters the silence, and Johnny looks down with a start. A text this time, quickly followed by another alerting him to an unknown sender. He swipes to the first message and lets out a shaking breath as he sags against the rail in relief.

_J -_

_Rogue. Afterlife. Talk to you soon._

_-V._

  
  


* * *

Johnny’s not sure what he expected at Afterlife, but it wasn’t that Rogue would be expecting him. He hadn’t called ahead - just seemed safer that way - but the second he walks in, the bouncer catches his eye. Instead of stepping aside like he always has in the past, he holds up one meaty hand and signals for Johnny to stop. 

“Rogue wants to see you, kid. Said to bring you to her as soon as you showed.”

Even in his own body, Emmerick would’ve towered over him, but Johnny still can’t help but resent just how far he has to tilt his head back to meet the gonk’s eyes now.

“Well?” he shrugs, cocking a brow. “What’re you waitin’ for? Let’s go.”

Emmerick grunts at that, but doesn’t otherwise respond. Just jerks his head at Johnny to follow. He doesn’t lead him further into Afterlife, like Johnny assumes, but turns on his heel and heads back out the exit to the doors of an elevator. All the times he’s been in the place with V, and he’s never noticed it even had one. Then again, neither had she. The Afterlife was one of the few places where V’d actually respected the intention of a locked door. 

As Emmerick punches the button for the top floor, Johnny crosses his arms over his chest and props one foot against the wall behind him. Thankfully, the burly man is silent as the elevator begins its ascent. Johnny’s not in the mood for small talk, especially if it means impersonating V. 

His thoughts are frenzied, firing so fast he feels like he’s going in circles just to keep up with them. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other but manages to keep from pacing as the elevator car makes its slow way to the top. He’s got no clue how Rogue ties into any of this, but Johnny figures he shouldn’t be surprised she’s waiting for him. V mentioned her by name. Stands to reason she’s in on...whatever the fuck this is.

The elevator opens to a suite of private rooms, plainly decorated, but still bigger than half the apartments in Night City, and Johnny swallows a snort. Queen of the Afterlife, indeed. Looks like Rogue set herself up _real_ cozy. Part of him wonders just what it cost her - if there was some truth to Grayson’s taunts after all, but then he decides he doesn’t care. That weight rests on her soul. His own is heavy enough without him prying into other people’s biz. 

Rogue looks up from behind her desk as they enter. Her face unreadable, she gives Johnny a flat stare, eyes never leaving his as she tells the bouncer, “Thanks, Emmerick.”

“Need anything else, boss?”

“Yeah - lock up on your way down. You and Claire got the floor.”

Once the elevator doors close again, the bouncer disappearing behind them, Rogue steps around the desk and narrows her eyes in a glare. “Jesus, Johnny, do you ever pick up the damn holo? Been tryin’ to buzz you for three days!”

There’s a retort on his tongue she’s just daring him to let fly, but Johnny manages to choke it down. She didn’t say anything in their last call he hasn’t already told himself, and all the evidence she needs against him is right in front of her eyes. 

“New number,” he shrugs. “Why? The fuck’s goin’ on, Rogue?”

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I was hopin’ you’d tell me.” 

Debating just how much to tell her, Johnny realizes he doesn’t actually know enough himself to go skimping on the details. ‘Sides, if he’s gonna figure this out, Rogue’s probably his best shot. 

“Got a message from V. Said to meet you here.”

“... _V_? Thought she was -” Rogue cuts herself off with a sharp slicing motion of her hand and shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. Just come with me.”

She leads him from the office to the living room, and turns down a short hall. Johnny thinks the room at the end is their destination, but Rogue stops about halfway and opens a small panel to reveal a keypad. The keys flash and beep as she punches in the code, and seconds later, the wall slides open to reveal another room that looks like it’s part arsenal, part server. 

A gun rack runs the length of one wall, cases of various ammunition neatly stacked beneath it. The back wall is dominated by a large screen with smaller monitors framing it on either side. Cables crisscross the floor, connecting to more tech than Johnny could ever name, and crates of armor and other gear fill the remaining corner. It’s these Rogue directs him to. 

“Some suit brought this by a few days back,” she explains, gesturing to what appears to be a large, armored briefcase. 

Something about the look of it is oddly familiar, and Johnny doesn’t catch the rest of what she says. He reaches out a hand, running one fingertip along the cold metal of the exterior. A sudden surge of phantom panic makes his heart race, and when he snatches his hand back, he half expects to find his fingers coated in blood. 

That case...he’s seen it before, or one like it. He doesn't know where, but he’s sure of it. 

A memory tickles at the back of his mind. It’s all just vague flashes and jumbled images, but his insides go cold with dread as hands too big and clumsy for such a delicate task fumble to remove a chip. He sees it, thin piece of metal, ceramic, and electrodes; hears the muttered words of a prayer, and watches, helpless, as one of those same hands reaches back to slot the chip in…and Johnny _knows_. 

Not his memory, but V’s. The moment that began it all, when a stray bullet damaged a case very much like the one he’s looking at now…

His heart speeds again as that little spark in his chest ignites to a full-fledged flame. Rogue must see something in his face because her gaze sharpens. 

“You know what it is.”

Not a question, Johnny notes, but he answers anyway. “Think I might, yeah. ‘Saka kept the Relic in somethin’ like that.”

“Wait, the chip? _Your_ chip?” 

At his nod, Rogue’s eyes dart to the case and flare brilliant blue “Enviro controlled,” she murmurs, lips thinning into a frown. “Definitely some kind of biochip, but that’s all I can tell. Whatever it is, that suit left it for _you_ specifically.” As her eyes return to their natural color, she reaches into a small pocket on her jacket and pulls out a data shard. “This, too,” she adds, holding it out to him. “Guy said it was somethin’ called Vesper.”

Johnny snatches up the shard, but before he can insert it, Rogue grabs his wrist. 

“Johnny, wait! You got no idea what’s on that!”

“It’s V, Rogue. Vesper….”

Rogue’s eyes widen at that, or maybe it’s him, the way his voice cracks on the name. She’s still got a grip on his arm, but it’s gone lax as her face softens. “You sure about that? Could just be some kind of trap.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he mutters, shaking her hand off him. 

“Fine,” Rogue sighs, and hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “Term back there’s got a data port. Better than shovin’ the damn thing in your head.”

She follows him to the terminal, and waits, arms crossed while he plugs in the shard. 

Nothing happens at first, then the screen flickers and goes dark. Seconds later, it flares to life, flashing as it begins to scroll a rapid stream of code. A high-pitched whine drones through the audio system, loud enough to make Johnny grit his teeth against the vibration in his skull. Rogue lets out a curse, shoving past him as she darts for the term.

“Rogue, wait!”

“It’s a goddamn virus, Johnny!” 

They both freeze, Rogue’s hand still hovering over the terminal, when the noise abruptly cuts out, only to be replaced by V’s voice. 

It’s tinny through the sound system and carries the same subtle distortion he heard in Mikoshi, but her amusement is audible.

_“Been called a lot of things, but never that_ _.”_

“Shit," Rogue says in a soft voice. "It really is you."

_“Not quite.”_

“The fuck you mean by that?” Johnny demands. Worry sharpens his words, making them harsher than he intended, and a pang of regret stabs at his gut. It’s not how he wants this to go, especially after thinking he’d never talk to her again. “V…”

_“One sec, okay? I’ll explain everything.”_

The data streaming on the monitor slows and the lines of code begin to converge into a vaguely humanoid form. After a minute or so, it clears, and V’s image is looking back at him from the screen, all glitching pixels and faded red. 

“Fuck it’s good to see you,” Johnny whispers, not trusting his voice for anything louder. 

She gives him a sad smile at that. _“You, too, Johnny. You look like shit though.”_

She’s right and he knows it, but it just pisses him off. “Yeah? Who’s fault is that? You left me in your fuckin’ body, V, starin’ at your face every time I look in a mirror. Got your ghost with me wherever I go.”

_“I know,”_ she says quietly. _“And I’m workin’ on it. Just need your help.”_

“Anything, V. Shouldn’t need to be said.”

“Name it,” Rogue agrees from where she’s standing beside him. 

At Johnny’s questioning look, she shrugs, the corner of her mouth twitching in a faint grin. “What? We both know you’ll just drag me into this, anyway. Besides,” she adds, looking back at the screen. “Haven’t forgotten what you did for us that night at the drive-in. What you did for _me_. So l’m in. But first, you’re gonna have to tell us exactly what’s goin’ on, here.”

_“The short version? There might be a way to get me and Johnny back in our own bodies.”_

“How you plan on pullin’ that off?” Johnny asks cautiously. He’s learned not to underestimate V once she sets her mind to something, but this sounds ambitious, even for her. Also gnat-shit crazy, but he doesn’t have a lot of room to judge on that front. “Doubt there’s anything left of mine by now, and yours gets hit with a sell-by date the second you’re back in it.”

_“Actually, yours is in pretty good shape, thanks to Alt. Don’t ask me how, but she got hold of it shortly after they dumped you, and it’s been sittin’ on ice ever since. Think she always planned on bringin’ you back. Just couldn’t get to you while you were stuck in Mikoshi.”_

Johnny’s not sure how to feel about that. Feels weird to think about jumping back into his corpse, no matter how well Alt managed to fix it up. On the other hand, he’d be back - really back. Not this halfway bullshit of sharing a body or living in someone else’s skin. ‘Course, none of that even matters if V won’t get the same chance. Out of the two of them, she deserves it more. He tries to tell her as much, but Rogue speaks before he can. 

“Still haven’t said where that leaves you, V.”

_“There’s no savin’ that body. Soon as you pull the chip, it flatlines.”_

“Then we don’t pull the fuckin’ chip,” Johnny argues, leaning his hip against a stack of crates and crossing his arms. “We find another way.”

V’s expression stays neutral, but there’s an edge to her tone that Johnny recognizes. Usually means she’s about fed up with his shit, but he’s never been so happy to hear it. 

_“Already have, if you’ll let me finish. Alt didn’t drag your dead ass out of that oil field from behind the Blackwall, Johnny. She’s got people, one of which is former corp. Biotechnica - specialized in cloning.”_

“So we get you on that other chip, and jack you into a brand new body.”

_“Bit more complicated than that, but that’s the idea.”_

“And this corpo. Sure you can trust ‘im?”

_“Former corpo,”_ V corrects. _“And his deal is with Alt. She’s just lettin’ me play with her toys.”_

“How the hell’d you get her to agree to that?”

_“I didn’t. She’s the one that brought it to me. I think...I think maybe I remind her too much of you, of when she was human. Or hell, maybe this is all just one giant experiment to her.”_

Who the fuck actually knew with Alt? She sure as hell hadn’t told him that she had his body, even when he’d insisted on being the one to stay in cyberspace. He can’t see how it matters if she was just planning on throwin’ him back in it, but he doesn’t really care, either. V would’ve still been fucked. Whatever the AI’s reasons, V’s got a chance now, without a countdown hanging over her head.

“So what is it you need from us?” Rogue asks, straight to the point as usual.

_“My DNA, for starters. Gotta be from before the chip scrambled it.”_

“Pretty tall order,” Johnny snorts. “How the hell am I s’posed to find that?”

V’s image flickers as she grins. _“This part’s easy, trust me. There’s an old tank top Jackie gave me. Wore it for every job we did. Had it on under my clothes when me and Jack were playin’ corpo at Konpeki...”_

“And when Dex shot you,” Johnny finishes. “Before the chip activated.”

_“Yep. Thing’s covered in preem pre-Relic DNA. Never could throw that shirt away, just shoved it in the back of my closet. All you gotta do is go in and grab it.”_

Johnny lets out a quiet huff of air, shifting his weight from one hip to the other. “It’s been months, V. Haven’t exactly been payin’ your rent.”

_“I hacked administration and extended the lease after Mikoshi. Wanted to make sure you weren’t tossed out on your ass -_ my _ass - before you got your shit together. It’s paid up for the rest of the year.”_

“Actually expected me to stay there? Never took you for a sadist.”

Her voice goes quiet and rough. Choked. _“Johnny, please. We’ll talk, okay? One way or another. But right now, I’m runnin’ out of time here.”_

Rogue meets his gaze and holds it a moment before her eyes flick back to the monitor. “So you said that part was easy. What’s the hard part?”

_“Need you to come in and get me ._ ”

“Aren’t you already here?”

_“Like I said, not quite. This is a program. A...proxy, I guess. Keeps NetWatch off my ass. My engram is deeper in cyberspace, hidden in a data fortress. You’ve already been there with me. ‘Member the VooDoo Boys?”_

“Back stabbin’ motherfuckers,” Johnny mutters. “You actually leave any of ‘em alive?”

_“A few, but I locked ‘em out. They think it’s NetWatch keepin’ ‘em out, and NetWatch thinks any activity in the data fortress is just the VDBs.”_

“Clever girl,” Rogue murmurs in approval. “But I’m guessing you can’t keep that little game going forever.”

_“Only a matter of time ‘fore they catch on,”_ V agrees, tone grim. _“It’s takin’ everything I got just to keep ‘em off my trail.”_

“I’ll talk to Nix, see what -”

V doesn’t even let her finish. _“Too risky. This needs to stay quiet.”_

“I’ll do it, then,” Johnny says. “Got all your implants, just need a chair.”

Rogue shoots him a doubtful look. “You might have her tech, but do you even know how to move in Cyberspace, Johnny? Do you have any netrunning experience at all?”

_“He’s the only one I trust with this.”_

Johnny already figured that’s what she was getting at, but hearing her say it after everything that’s happened hits straight like a punch to the gut. It takes him a few moments before he trusts his voice to be steady enough to speak. 

“Won’t let you down, V.”

Not again. He’ll get her back, or fuckin’ die tryin’. 

_“I know.”_

Holding up her hands in surrender, Rogue sighs. “Fine, fine. Have it your way. Just hope the two of you know what the hell you’re doin’.”

_“I’ll get you another program, Johnny. Walk you through it as much as I can, but first, I need that shirt.”_

“And when I got it? Can’t exactly just hand it off to you.”

His holo chimes at the same time as Rogue’s. He glances down at the device as Rogue checks hers and finds a text linking an address for a BBS. 

_“That link’s secure. Contact me there when you have it. I’ll find you and send you the coords to a dropbox.”_

“Find me? Creepy, V.” 

_“Goro tagged us, remember? Your gonk ass never had the tracker removed. First time you used your personal link, I changed the frequency so ‘Saka couldn’t access it.”_

Fuck, he’d forgotten about that. There’d been too much going on by the time Hanako told them. V was getting worse, and all he’d cared about was saving her life before it was too late. After...after he was too busy trying to hang on to the last shreds of his sanity. Johnny thinks back to the motel, to those times he was certain V could hear him, and knows now it wasn’t just in his head. He’d felt her, because she was there.

“‘Saka couldn’t, but you could.”

_“I...checked in a few times,”_ V admits, sounding uncertain. _“Couldn’t contact you then ‘cause I was still tryin’ to figure out how this construct thing worked, but I just...I wanted to...”_

Anyone else, and the idea would piss him off, but there’s a fucked up sort of comfort in knowing that even as a disembodied engram, V still had his back in the only way she could. 

“I get it, V. Always figured you were there somehow, anyway.”

V doesn’t say anything to that. Her image wavers on the screen a few times, glitching in bursts of code and static.

_“I have to go.”_ There’s another crackle of static through the audio system, and then she continues, _“Got about another minute before the proxy self-destructs.”_

“Self- destructs? The hell does that mean?”

_“It’s fine, Johnny. Working as designed. Couldn’t chance leaving a trail, or another Delemain situation. I’ll be in touch.”_

With that, her image fragments, and the monitor goes fuzzy and white. Slowly it fades, until the screen is dark once more. 

Already, he misses her, that familiar ache throbbing to life deep in his chest. 

Rogue taps a few keys, but the terminal stays dark. She ejects the shard, peering at the thin sliver of metal, and frowns. “Data shard’s been wiped. And my term with it, looks like.” Tossing the shard down, she sighs and turns to face him.

“So, you and V…”

“What about us?” Johnny asks warily. “Gonna throw it in my face again that I just left her there?”

“No, Johnny. I think you’re doin’ just fine with that all on your own.” 

Rogue drops her gaze, folding her arms tightly against her as she scuffs at the floor with the toe of her boot. “Look, I was wrong, okay? ‘S obvious she’ cares about you. Figured you took advantage of that and conned her into giving you her body.”

With a scowl, Johnny pushes off the crates to pace from one end of the armory to the other. “Wouldn’t do that to her, Rogue. _Fuck!_ Woulda shoved her back into her body myself if I could’ve.”

“I know that. Now.” She looks back at him with a wistful smile. “You really have changed, you know. ‘Cause of her. And I’m thinkin’ you changed her, too.”

Johnny stills, but doesn’t turn around, lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Makes sense, I guess. Chip was writin’ me onto her brain, but she was creepin’ into my code the whole time, too. Her thoughts, her memories…

"See her choom bleedin’ out in the back of a cab and it’s like I’m there. _I’m her._ Takes a minute to remind myself I never even met the guy. And then sometimes she'd wake up from a nightmare and grab her arm like she was checkin’ to see if it was still there, pure fuckin’ panic in her eyes…”

“Forced empathy,” Rogue says wryly. “Coulda used some of that back in our day. For the both of us.”

“Yeah, about that. Never did apologize for -”

Rogue cuts him off with a shake of her head. “Ancient history, Johnny. I know that night at the drive-in didn’t go the way you expected, but it was closure, if nothing else. We’re both different people now. No point in holdin’ grudges against ghosts.”

“Thanks, Rogue. You’re still the best.”

It’s all he can think of to say, pathetic as it is, but he’s rewarded with a twitch of her lips. 

“I know. Now come on. Let’s find that shirt.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I want to thank everyone who commented and left kudos!

It’s strange to find himself back in Night City just as he’d made up his mind to finally leave. Johnny hadn’t been blowing smoke when he’d told Steve the city had a certain beauty to it. He can still see it now; it’s just wild and sharp, no fond goodbye to smooth the rough edges and let nostalgia take hold. Everything he’s lost, everything the city’s _taken,_ stands out in stark relief, but so does what he’s gained - what he can still get back.

Rogue’s been silent since they left V’s apartment, but she keeps casting furtive glances Johnny’s way whenever she thinks he isn’t looking. V’s holo chimes again, and the fixer sighs.

“You can’t ignore them forever.”

Johnny looks down at the device in his hands, and privately disagrees. He’s done one hell of a job so far. Can’t figure out why he’d even grabbed the damn thing in the first place, only that he’d seen it there on V’s coffee table, an absurd amount of unheard voicemails flashing on the screen, and knew he couldn’t just leave it. 

V wouldn’t. 

Hearin’ ‘em now is the least he can do for her. 

Sucking in a breath, he holds it and plays the first message. 

Vik. 

The worry in the old ripper’s voice is audible, even without the holographic recording accompanying it. It doesn’t get any better from there. Misty knew something went down long before Johnny ran into her in V’s apartment. 

_Death, but not quite_. 

Pretty fuckin’ accurate description, that, but then, he shouldn’t be surprised. She’d recognized him from a glance. He’s still not sure if there’s anything to those cards of hers, or if the magic is all Misty, but she’s yet to be wrong.

Mama Welles is the worst of the three messages so far, not just worried, but _hurt_. 

Dinners at the El Coyote were a regular thing. V never could quite look Mama Welles in the eye again, but she’d never missed a Sunday - her own fucked up form of penance for her perceived role in Jackie’s death. No way she’d just forget her choom’s birthday. Johnny knows it, and so does Mama Welles. He hates the conclusion the older woman must’ve drawn, but the truth is far worse. She deserves to hear it, but Johnny doesn’t know where he’d even begin. 

Turning the holo off, he shoves it in his pocket.

  
  


Rogue gives him a look, but he doesn’t meet her eyes, staring straight ahead. When she turns her gaze back to the road, Johnny lets his own fall to the wad of bloodstained fabric wrapped in plastic at his feet. 

Hard to believe it’s all that’s left of the real V, before he came in and corrupted her on such a level her own body refused to recognize her as its rightful occupant. The thought leaves Johnny feeling vaguely ill. He swallows hard, and rests his head against the window, watching the city pass in a neon blur. A few minutes later, the car slows to a stop as Rogue pulls in close to the curb and points to a drop box near a corner porn shop. 

“According to the coordinates she sent us, that’s gotta be the one.”

Johnny checks his holo again just to be sure and then grabs the bundle of plastic from the floor and stuffs it inside his jacket. He pulls the collar up as he gets out and ducks his head. Can’t chance anyone on the street recognizing V. It probably would’ve made more sense to send Rogue, but this is something _he_ has to do, some small measure of control in a situation that’s otherwise entirely out of his hands. 

When he gets to the drop box, Johnny almost thinks there must be some kind of mistake after all. The interface is red instead of the normal blue, and when he tugs on the depository door it doesn’t budge. That feeling of eyes on him is back though, and he glances around until he spots the small dome of a security cam positioned above the box. Within moments, there’s a metallic click from somewhere inside as the lock disengages and the screen changes back to blue. With a small nod at the camera, Johnny drops the bundle inside. 

His holo chirps an alert on the way back to Rogue’s car, an incoming text on the BBS channel V created. 

_Thanks, Johnny. Talk soon._

He goes to type a reply only to hesitate and then put his phone away. Secure channel or not, he figures less activity can only mean less chance of drawing attention. With nothing left to do, he joins Rogue back in her car. 

“What now?” she asks as Johnny slides into the passenger seat.

“We wait,” Johnny shrugs. 

“For how long?”

“Dunno, Rogue. Ain’t exactly versed in the time frame for growing a fuckin’ human body from a blood stain.”

Rogue mutters something he can’t make out beneath her breath, shoulders rigid as she steers the car back onto the street. She’s not truly angry, Johnny knows. Just frustrated at the lack of a solid plan. For once, he gets it. There’s no door to kick down, no enemy to fight, no clear _goal_. All they can do is wait for the next step, and hope that V has everything else under control until then. Anyone else, and it’d be asking too much. Johnny’s never had much in the way of patience, but his trust in V is absolute. 

“You have a place to stay?” Rogue asks, breaking the tense silence. 

“Not anymore.” 

Technically untrue. V’s apartment sits empty and waiting. Rogue knows this, but she doesn’t argue. 

“Got a spare room. Yours as long as you need it, but Johnny...don’t fuck this up.”

The warning is oddly gentle, and Johnny gets the feeling she’s not talking about the room. Either way, Rogue doesn’t elaborate, and he doesn’t ask. They spend the rest of the drive lost in their own thoughts until Rogue pulls into the parking lot of Afterlife. 

She leads him down the stairs and to the penthouse elevator. When the doors close, she leans against the wall, mouth pinching into a frown as she studies him. A few seconds of that, and Johnny’s had enough. 

“You got somethin’ to say, just say it.”

She doesn’t answer right away, mouth screwed in thought as she considers her words. “You really think this’ll work?” she asks at last. 

“V seems to.”

“I’m not askin’ about V, Johnny, I’m askin’ what _you_ think.”

“It’ll work.”

It has to. It’s the only chance V’s got. 

More than a little skepticism remains in her features, but it clears as Rogue lets out a long breath. “Alright. Looks like we’ve got work to do.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Turns out, Rogue finds plenty for Johnny to do once he’s settled in, mainly in the form of a crash course in netrunning. She manages to get her hands on a training shard and Johnny practices short, shallow runs in the Afterlife’s subnet. 

The first time, he’s barely jacked in before Rogue pulls him back out. He wakes to the erratic flashing of his optics as they scroll a stream of incomprehensible data, palms damp, his heart thundering in his ears. He jerks upright, only to sway dizzyingly as the sudden return of his sense of motion sends his head spinning. A hand grips his shoulder. Rogue’s as she tries to steady him, and Johnny focuses on the warm weight of it. Let’s it remind him that he’s free, no longer trapped in the expansive void of cyberspace. 

Rogue is less than enthused, but Johnny insists on trying again. And again after that. The anxiety never truly fades, but he gets better at pushing it down. He doesn’t need to be comfortable, only competent. Within weeks, he’s hacking primitive data forts and retrieving dummy files. There’s no real purpose to the exercise, but it gives Johnny a chance to familiarize himself with some of the programs and daemons V has installed on her deck - many she’d either written or revised herself. 

He relies on her memories more often than not, but has to wonder how much it actually matters. Even if he knew what he was doing, the simulations are just that - an approximation. The subframe is disconnected from the rest of Night City, so there’s no real risk, no chance to see how he’d fare against an actual threat. Rogue stresses this fact repeatedly, even as she admits they’ve gone as far as they can without involving an actual runner to take him deeper into the Net. There’s nothing more they can do. 

It’s been a little over three months, and Johnny is as ready as he’ll ever be.

His holo remains silent. He’s back to waiting, and unlike his time in the Net, he’s aware of every hour that passes with no word from V. 

The days tick by into another week, and Johnny’s nerves are just about fried. His stomach churns with acid. His nails are bitten to the quick, cuticles ragged and bleeding, and he’s worn a path through the plush carpet in Rogue’s living room with his pacing. 

“You need to get out, Johnny. _Do something_. You’re no use to anyone like this.”

It’s a familiar argument, one Johnny stubbornly continues to ignore, no matter how much the walls feel like they’re closing in around him. 

As one week slips into two, his holo finally does ring. In his haste to answer, Johnny realizes too late it isn’t V on the line, but Kerry. 

Johnny doesn’t bother to ask how he got the number, just shoots Rogue a dirty look where she’s seated on the couch across from him. Unfazed, the fixer gets to her feet 

“Get out and do something,” she repeats softly as she passes by on her way to the elevator. “I don’t wanna see you back here before dark.”

_Well, fuck._

The elevator doors open, and Rogue steps inside, leaving Johnny alone with Kerry’s image on the holo. They stare at each other a moment, until Kerry finally speaks.

“So, uh...how ya been?” he asks and forces an awkward laugh. “Good thing you got your own number, ‘cause gettin’ V to pick up--”

Johnny looks away at the mention of V, and whatever Kerry sees in his face - _her_ face - brings his rambling to a stuttering halt. 

“Johnny, what the hell’s goin’ on?”

“What’d Rogue tell you?”

“Not much,” Kerry shrugs. He runs a hand through his hair, mussing the bleached waves into stiff spikes, and lets out a long exhale through his nose. “Just that you were back for a bit. Said you weren’t doin’ so well.”

“She’s gone, Ker. V, she...”

He can’t bring himself to finish his sentence, but Kerry’s face falls as understanding dawns. For a moment, Johnny thinks his old friend might actually cry. 

Clearing his throat, his eyes focused on some point Johnny can’t see, Kerry asks, “You at the Afterlife?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Be there in twenty. Meet me out front.”

Before Johnny can argue, the call disconnects. 

He thinks about simply not showing. Kerry’ll get the hint, and there’s some truth to his past boasts about Rogue. No matter how bad things have ever been between them, she’s never told him no. She won’t now, either, if he digs his heels in. Once, he’d have had her right where he wanted her, but this time it just feels wrong. In her own way, she’s worried about him. 

He paces the living room once more, catching sight of his reflection in the glass of her windows, and realizes she’s right to be. V’s face stares back at him, haggard and pale except for the dark rings beneath her eyes. She’s not much thinner than he remembers, but that’s a bar already set too low. He can’t remember the last time he ate more than the microwaved junk he used to ride her ass over. The last time he actually slept.

Maybe Rogue’s right. Maybe getting out for a bit really will do him some good. 

Grabbing his jacket, Johnny heads for the elevator. As promised, Kerry’s car pulls into the parking lot minutes later. He waits just long enough for Johnny to get in, and then whips a U turn, pointing the car back onto the street. 

“Heard some shit went down with Arasaka,” Kerry begins, glancing at Johnny from the corner of his eye. “Way the scream sheets tell it, the bastards are as good as done. Playin’ it up like they got hit by a rival corp, but I’m guessin’ that’s just PR bullshit.”

“V needed to get to Mikoshi. Closest access point was under the tower.”

“I’m s’posed to know what the fuck that means? What happened, Johnny? You said she’s...not the one steerin’ the ship, yeah?”

“She stayed behind,” Johnny answers dully. “Still in the Net, with Alt.” 

Something hot squeezes in his chest and his fingers dig into the leather of the arm rest tight enough to make his knuckles ache, but somehow he manages to choke out everything that’s happened since Mikoshi. 

It doesn’t get any easier to say the third time around. Seems harder even, because now there’s no pretense of moving on - not while there’s a chance he can still fix this. 

They’ve reached the villa by the time Johnny is through, but Kerry doesn’t get out of the car. Doesn’t move at all. He just sits, head bowed, his hands still wrapped around the wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Johnny stays quiet, waiting for the accusations and blame, but they never come. Instead, Kerry sits back and lets out a tremulous breath. 

“Loved that little klepto,” he says at last, letting his hands fall to his lap. “Guess now I know why she quit pickin’ up. Shoulda known she wouldn’t just ghost me like that.”

“Not her style.”

“Nah, that kinda shit’s all _you_ ,” Kerry snorts. He twists slightly, turning so he can dig through the center console and produces a pack of cigarettes. Holding it out in a wordless offer, he shrugs when Johnny shakes his head, and lights one for himself. “Were you even gonna call, or is Rogue the only reason we’re talkin’ now?”

Johnny doesn’t answer. If Rogue hadn’t involved herself, he wouldn’t’ve had to explain anything. The coward’s way, sure, but V was the one that went and changed the plan. If her friends wanted details, she could tell them herself once she was back. 

His silence must be answer enough because Kerry lets out a bitter chuckle. “Typical Johnny,” he mutters, quirking his mouth to direct a stream of smoke toward the open window. “Weren’t gonna tell me shit, were you?”

“And what the fuck was I gonna say?” Johnny snaps, frustration burning through the last thread of his patience. “That in the end, she chose _me_ instead of livin’ out her life? Even I didn’t think she was _that_ fuckin’--” 

He breaks off, nearly cringing at the snarl he hears in his tone, a dissonant echo that doesn’t belong in V’s voice. The sound stabs at his chest, and he sighs, feeling limp and wrung out as that familiar anger drains away in a single breath. 

“What was I s’posed to say?” he repeats, quieter this time, hands spread helplessly in front of him. “You really think anyone’s gonna believe it was her decision? Nah, they’re gonna think this was the plan all along. That I was just waitin’ for my chance.”

“Anyone that knows you knows that’s bullshit,” Kerry retorts dryly. “If this was all part of some master plan, you wouldn’t shut up about it. Prolly couldn’t even if you wanted to.”

“That’s the point, Ker. Most of V’s friends didn’t have a clue what was goin’ on. If they knew about me at all, I was just the asshole killin’ her.”

“I’m not talkin’ about V’s friends, I’m talkin’ about you and me. You owed me that much, Johnny! Deserved better than thinkin’ the kid just ran off - that you just up and disappeared again!”

Johnny doesn’t bother to point out that if Mikoshi had gone the way it was supposed to, that’s exactly what would’ve happened. At least in his case. V would’ve told Kerry, though. No way she’d have left him hanging like that. 

“Wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” Johnny admits, swallowing a pang of guilt. “V was a better friend to you than I ever was.”

“Eh, you had your moments.” Kerry’s lips twitch in a grin, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He turns to flick his cigarette butt out the window, and by the time he’s facing Johnny again, it’s slipped entirely, his expression melancholic. “And it’s not like I got so many friends I don’t mind losin’ one. You and V, that biz with the chip… Was never gonna end well, was it?”

“No way it could.”

Kerry purses his lips and gives a slow nod of his head. “Still shoulda told me,” he chides, his voice softening. “But I get why you didn’t. It’s a lot to take in, her bein’ gone, and then findin’ out she’s...not.”

“I’m gonna get her back, Ker,” Johnny promises. Not just to Kerry, but to V. To _himself_. 

“In that case, enough talkin’ about her like she’s dead. C’mon,” he adds, opening his door. “I need a drink.”

They go inside and Kerry leads Johnny upstairs to the bar. Waving at one of the stools, he motions for Johnny to sit, then reaches behind the counter to pull out a bottle of tequila. Johnny’s favorite brand. 

“To V,” he says, holding the bottle up as his face breaks into a lopsided grin. “And all the corpo yachts that still need to burn.”

He throws his head back and takes a long swig straight from the bottle, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Johnny hesitates only a second before taking the tequila and following suit. After a toast like that, V won’t hold it against him. ‘Sides, she already said this body was done. If this all works out, one night won’t matter. If it doesn’t…

He can’t bring himself to finish the thought, and knocks back another mouthful of tequila instead. The liquor burns a fiery trail from his throat to his stomach before it dulls to a pleasant warmth that spreads along his limbs. Already, his head feels light, and a faint flush heats his skin. 

V’s tolerance for alcohol is nothing like what he’s used to. He doesn’t need the reminder, the hangover from hell is still fresh in his mind. She was wrong when she’d assumed he didn’t feel it. He’d felt everything; every throb of pain pounding behind her eyes, every wave of nausea. What stood out the most - what still haunts him - was the prick of betrayal that stabbed at his heart for days after. 

She’d forgiven him, of course. Even said she understood. 

Somehow, that just made it worse. The hurt lingered, long after her anger had cooled, and he’d promised them both he’d never take advantage of her trust like that again.

They move to the couches, still passing the bottle between them, though Johnny limits himself to small sips. If Kerry notices, he doesn’t say anything, too busy talking about his upcoming tour with Us Cracks. 

  
  


He’s got a new single, the song Johnny heard with V that day on the yacht, and plans to turn it into another album. They even talk about Kerry’s ex and his kids. 

Weird, that. And a stark reminder of just how much time has passed, how much has changed. It seems just as awkward for Kerry, and through some unspoken agreement, they soon move on to another topic. Eventually, the conversation turns back to V. 

“I gotta ask, man.” Kerry takes a deep pull from the bottle and swallows audibly before continuing, “What’s her deal with fruit? Rolls of eddies just layin’ there, Samurai merch collectors would _kill_ for, and she kleps fuckin’ _fruit_? Ariel thought I was on some weird cleanse.”

“She grew up on that synth shit,” Johnny shrugs. “Never had the real thing. ‘Sides, it’s not like _you_ were gonna miss it.”

“Nah. Woulda just gave her some if I’d known she liked it that much.”

“Pears,” Johnny murmurs, grabbing the bottle and taking a drink. 

“Huh?”

“Pears are her favorite. First time she ever tried one was that night we set up the gig. Could taste every fuckin’ bite,” Johnny adds with a grimace. “Fuck, I hate pears.”

“Ah, shit,” Kerry laughs, snagging the bottle back. “I forgot about that. What’s-her-face at the Rainbow, right? What was she drinkin’? Schnapps or somethin’?”

“Vodka. And the problem wasn’t her drinkin’, it was her pukin’ all over the backseat of the porsche. Had to get it reupholstered just to get the smell out.”

“You ever tell V about that?”

Johnny shakes his head. “The chip...She was pretty bad by then. Couldn’t eat a lot. Woulda choked the damn things down myself if that’s what it took to get some kind of food in her.”

Any trace of humor vanishes from his face as Kerry slumps back into the cushions. “ _Jesus_. Never even knew she was that sick. I mean, I knew the pills took a lot out of her, but…”

“She didn’t tell anyone; didn’t want ‘em to worry. The chip was killin’ her, Ker. _I_ was killin’ her, and there wasn’t a fuckin’ thing -- ” 

His voice breaks, and heat prickles behind his eyes. With a muffled curse, Johnny scrubs his hands over his face. He’s not going to cry again. Would rather drown the urge in what’s left of that bottle, promises be damned, but it’s sitting on the table now, out of his reach. 

He stiffens when Kerry grips his shoulder, resolve nearly crumbling as his friend pulls him into a rough hug. Maybe he’s already drunker than he thought, because after that, Johnny just can’t seem to shut the fuck up. 

“Was s’posed to be me,” he whispers, voice low and shaking. “My life for hers. That was the deal. She had six months to figure somethin’ out. We had a _plan_ , Ker. Wasn’t s’posed to go like this. _I_ was gonna stay, but she - She just -”

“Does whatever the hell she wants?” Kerry asks with a small chuckle. “Yeah, I noticed that. Kinda reminds me of you. Still, that’s a tough call. Guess you two got pretty close, huh?”

“Yeah,” Johnny admits, looking away. “But close ain’t the word for it. Fuck, I don’t think there is one.”

Kerry gives him a knowing look, equal parts exasperation and amusement. “Love, ya fuckin gonk. The word you’re lookin’ for is love.”

Johnny stays quiet, gaze focused on his hands. It’s still jarring to see V’s instead of his own. He remembers how it felt to have her fingers wrapped around his when they clasped hands in Mikoshi, how well they fit together despite her hand being so much smaller, and realizes that Kerry’s probably right. 

He loves her. 

Has since the Pistis Sophia, if he’s being honest with himself, though he couldn’t see it back then. 

_Would you take a bullet for me?_

He still doesn’t know what answer he was expecting, or why she’d answered at all. What right did he have to even ask? They weren’t comrades in arms. Fighting for her life, maybe, but in that case, he was the loaded gun held tight to her head. Unwilling, sure, but it was still his finger on the trigger. Woulda served him right if she’d just laughed in his face, but instead she’d only nodded, no hesitation at all. 

_Yeah, Johnny, I would._

Like he was more than just code, more than a parasite infecting her brain. She said it like he was real, like he _mattered_.

Then she had to go and prove she meant every word. 

“Alright, enough of this shit.” Kerry's voice shakes him from his thoughts as he claps Johnny on the back and gets to his feet. “Still got your axe downstairs. Wanna run somethin’ by ya, and then we can jam.”

Just like they used to. It’s the first bit of familiarity in what seems like forever, and as Johnny stands, he feels more himself than he has in a long, long time. 

“Sounds good.”

They play late into the night; old Samurai songs, new pieces that Kerry’s been working on. An hour or so in, and Johnny starts to feel that creative itch himself. He doesn’t get more than a few chords together. Can’t even really call it music yet, but it still feels like he’s found a missing piece of his soul. 

When Kerry drives him back to the Afterlife the next morning, Johnny promises to keep in touch. 

To his surprise, he actually does, and not just because Kerry has his number. He still can’t bring himself to contact any of V’s friends, but it helps to have someone else to talk to as the days keep rolling by. 

Rogue checks in on occasion, and he can tell she’s getting antsy, too. She hides it better, able to stay busy with the Afterlife, but not having a timeline or details to work with has to be driving her crazy. The Queen of Fixers, and she’s as powerless in this as he is. All either of them can do is keep waiting.

Five months have gone by when he awakens to the chime of his holo. He grabs for it with a mumbled curse and blinks at it with bleary eyes, half expecting it to be Kerry. As the screen comes into focus, his heart gives a single hard thump. 

V’s channel. 

He opens the text to find a set of coordinates, and a short message.

  
  


_Bring the case. Second warehouse, west gate._

_See you on the other side._

_\- V._


End file.
